Unity Comes in Sets of Two
by Alaena F. Dragonstar
Summary: POTHP Cross The Seigaku regulars were invited to a wizards’ tournament by mistake and chaos breaks loose as the wizards discover that their honorary team has no magic…or do they? [Ch 5, quotes now inserted .]
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer**: I don't own either HP or POT

Chapter 1

Ryuzaku Sumire had never been one to startle easily—she was the coach of a rambunctious tennis team after all, and if their antics couldn't unsettle her than it was pretty obvious that not many things could. So it was that when she walked into her office one fine, Friday morning, with pale, golden sunlight streaming in through the windows, and found a large, fluffy, dark brown owl sitting on her desk, she didn't so much as blink twice.

Well, maybe twice, but certainly not much more than that.

Instead, she walked straight up to her desk and took a moment to examine the creature while it in turn cocked its head to one side and studied her with large, round eyes. Apparently satisfied with what it found, it held out its right leg, hooting softly, and bobbed its head to indicate the thick, yellowish envelope that someone had tied there. It stood still like that, with one foot sticking out, and waited.

Arching in eyebrow in surprise, Ryuzaku hesitated briefly before reaching out to untie said envelope, accompanied by a soft, pleasant trill from her guest. It blinked at her, looking rather pleased—it was glad that it had finally gotten the message off of its talons after having flew halfway around the world with it.

Now, Ryuzaku Sumire might have been a hard person to ruffle, but even she had to look twice at the letter that now lay unfolded in her hand. Indeed, It was a strange letter for many reasons.

First—and most obviously—of all, the letter had been delivered by an owl. She had heard of messenger pigeons being used in the sometime-long-ago, but never owls—after all, they weren't exactly the type of bird one expected to see domesticated, let alone taught to deliver letters.

The second reason was that the letter she now held in her hand was written in English. Of course, being a school teacher, she knew how to read said language quite well, so that wasn't really an issue. The _real_ question was, of course, who in the world did she know that would write her a letter in English? It was certainly no one with a bolded name in her address book.

And of course, the last and most prominent mark of oddity was what the letter itself stated in emerald green ink letters that curled over the page in an elegant if almost illegible manner.

_Dar Mrs. Sumire Ryuzaku,_

_It has come to our attention in the last few months that the team of youths under your care have been showing great potential in the mystical dimensions. We have also heard news that they have been the victors of many a fierce and competitive duel. Thus it is that we take great pleasure and inviting your team to join us in our upcoming Nation NGW competition as the honorary attendants—only one team of which is selected each century. If you accept this invitation, then we will arrange for your transportation to London. You will be quartered at Hogwarts._

_Please send us your answer soon—you may borrow the delivery owl if you do not have a long distance messenger available._

_Again, we wish most fervently that you will accept our invitation, and we look forward to your coming._

—_Sincerely Lionel Raker_

_Mystical?_ Ryuzaku blinked, frowning slightly. In her memory, that word referred to things containing something of a magical or supernatural quality—not athletic skill… Of course, she could be wrong…

Still, an invitation to a national competition wasn't a chance to be passed up lightly. It was just strange that she had never heard of this tournament before…

x-X-x

It was an exceptionally hot day for a time of year that was supposed to be heading for the beautiful but generally freezing season of winter. Apparently, the sun didn't feel like retiring yet, and thus it was happily burning away—and the Seigaku tennis courts were soaking up every ray. It didn't improve matters any that there was no wind, not even a tentative whiff of air stirred the leaves of the nearby trees.

However, such discouraging conditions never hindered practices before, and Tezuka Kunimitsu, captain of the Seigaku tennis club was not inclined to allow this day to be an exception. Many a battle of all types had been lost because one side or the other had gotten careless and let their guard down in a lull that proved only to be momentary.

The rhythmic sound of balls connecting with racket strings was really a rather soothing sound, familiar and encouraging, seeing as it meant everyone was practicing. The atmosphere of a hard working club was hard to come by. But soon the sounds were dying away to be replaced by strangled screams.

"Iniu! No! I don't wanna—"

"Inui! What kind of color _is_ this!"

"What did you put into this thing!"

"But that was an accident!"

"Ah!"

"Help!"

"Noooo!"

"Please!"

Tezuka sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in an attempt to stall the headache he could feel threatening to rise.

Practice was now officially over. People were sprawled out over the courts—unconscious, with Styrofoam cups rolling away from their hands and thin trickles of greenish, purplish black oozing from the corners of their mouths—or slumped onto the benches, panting heavily from exertion. In fact, there was only one exception aside from Tezuka himself and the cause, and that exception was now standing next to him with a serene, somewhat amused smile on his face as he watched his gargling and collapsing friends. What he found amusing about the sight the captain couldn't fathom, but Fuji was always an enigma to everyone anyway. As for the cause…he was busily scribbling away in a green notebook, thick, square glasses glinting in the sunlight as he grinned madly and muttered something about good data.

Tezuka really had to wonder sometimes at the kind of people in his club.

It was at that moment that the gate to the courts swung open and Ryuzaki Sumire came striding in, a neatly folded piece of paper in hand.

Ordering the freshmen to start picking up the balls ad putting away the nets, Tezuka turned and made his way over to the coach. Something in her expression hinted that she was feeling rather smug about something or other.

"Tezuka," she greeted him as he approached, holding up the folded piece of paper he had noticed earlier, "tell the regulars to remain after practice. There is something I need to discuss with all of you."

Fifteen minutes later the nine Seigaku regulars were the only ones left on the courts. They were gathered before their captain and their coach. Granted, some—mostly those with faces that were still green—didn't look much as though they were paying attention. Still, that was only to be expected, and there wasn't much that could be done for them so no one bothered to reprimand them.

"I received a letter this morning from an organization in London," Ryuzaku announced. "We are being in—"

"Ryuzaki-sensei."

The coach paused, frowning slightly, "What is it Echizen?"

The freshman regular pointed boredly to his right where a taller boy was standing doubled over, the only bit of his face visible being a strip of green beneath his spiky black hair.

"Ah…right. Momoshiro, if you're going to throw up don't do it on the court!"

The boy bobbed his head up and down before bolting off of the courts faster than he had ever run while on them. He returned a few minutes later, still looking sick but back to his usual color.

"Right," Ryuzaki cleared her throat, "as I was saying, we have been invited to a tournament to be held in London. Now, I know that this seems a bit sudden, but I believe that going would be a good idea. You should experience some new places and styles in order to sharpen your skills. I need to send my reply as quickly as possible, so is there anyone who can't go?"

"A—ah, Sensai?" a tentative voice rang out, drawing all eyes to the tall boy standing near the back of the group.

"Yes Kawamura?"

The youth rubbed the back of his head nervously, "Well, you see, my dad injured his hand last week so he'll be needing me to help him run the restaurant… So…"

"That's all right," the coach smiled sympathetically at the shy boy, "I understand. I assume that means the rest of you are all going?"

"Of course nyah!" an energetic redhead exclaimed, bouncing up and down where he was standing with an excited grin stretched across his face. "It's a tournament! How can we not go nyah?"

"Eiji's right," the black haired boy standing next to him nodded, smiling, "this is a great opportunity."

"For data," Inui added, pen already racing across the lines in his notebook. "Chances to collect more data should never go to waste."

"Saa," Fuji chuckled, "it does sound rather interesting, doesn't it?"

"So, everyone's going?" Ryuzaki glanced at Tezuka, who nodded. "Good, then I'll mail them back. They said they'll arrange for your transportation."

"Maa, our transportation?" Fuji tilted his head slightly to one side. "Does that mean you're not coming, Sensei?"

The coach crossed her arms and grinned at them, looking almost evil, "No, I have work to do here. It'll be a good chance for all of you to experience dealing with things on your own. I trust you've all learned something in your English classes."

Tezuka felt a sudden sense of foreboding wash over him. Something about the entire situation felt out of place, and with Ryuzaki-sensei not going…who knew what could happen?

x-X-x

"—leaving for London. Boarding will now begin."

The practiced, female voice echoed across the intercom and throughout the airport as a collection of teens made their way towards their appointed gate of departure.

"Uwah!" Eiji exclaimed, bouncing around the group and staring at anything and everything that moved with wide, sparkling blue eyes. "This is so exciting!"

"E—Eiji! Calm down," Oishi cast an anxious look around, "people are staring."

"Really?" the redhead grinned and performed a perfect back flip before settling to skip along beside his doubles partner. "Do you think they saw nyah? I bet none of them can do that!"

Oishi smiled at his friend, "I'm sure they did."

"Mada mada dane," Echizen Ryoma sniffed, tugging down on the bill of his cap. It was amazing how childish some of his sempais could be at times.

"Oh come on Echizen," Momoshiro prodded the smaller boy in the back of the shoulder, "aren't you the least bit excited? We're going to England!"

"Don't poke me, Momo-sempai!"

"Hmm? You mean like this?"

"Momo-sempai!"

"Ow! Echi—ouch! Okay! I get it!"

"Fshuu, baka," the solemn looking youth with snake-like eyes hissed and rolled his eyes. And he had thought the buffoon couldn't get any stupider.

"Saa," Fuji chuckled, casting an amused glance back over his shoulder at his two bickering kohai who were now chasing each other back and forth. Well, it would probably be more precise to say that Echizen was chasing Momo around, looking murderous. "They wouldn't be the same if they weren't arguing, ne Tezuka?"

The team captain sighed inaudibly. As if he needed any reminders. If he was lucky, he'd sleep the entire way to London.

"According to my data," Inui announced suddenly, directing all of their attentions to the monitor hanging overhead with his pen, "the first flight number listed on that monitor is ours. And if that is so then our plane has been scheduled to leave ten minutes early. If we hurry, he may be able to make it before they leave without us."

There was a moment of utter silence, then the entire team was off, a frantic Eiji in the lead dragging his doubles partner helplessly along in his wake.

x

"These two rows are ours," Inui directed his friends down the aisle and gestured at a set of two window-side rows, "as well as the two seats opposite."

"I'm sitting here," Ryoma announced immediately, plopping himself down in one of the opposite seats. This ensured him at least an aisle to separate himself from his notably louder teammates. Kaidoh, apparently thinking the same thing, took the seat in front of the freshman and belted himself in firmly.

"I want a window!" Eiji cheered, bouncing into one of said seats and pulling Oishi down in the seat beside him. Grinning broadly, he proceeded to plaster hi face against the window and gaze rapturously out over the vast expanses of the airport. He didn't mind that they hadn't actually started flying yet.

Shaking his head at his team's behavior—it wasn't much a surprise that everyone around them was shooting them strange glances—Tezuka seated himself in the other window seat. He didn't particularly fancy having Kikumaru bubbling behind him throughout the duration of the plane ride, but at least he wouldn't have to deal with people who wanted to get out into the aisle for whatever reason.

"Ne, Eiji," Fuji chuckled, sliding into the seat beside Tezuka's and turning around so he could talk to the redhead, "just wait until we lift off. Then you can see all of Tokyo."

"That's gonna be cool!"

"Aw man," Momo complained, sitting down across from Echizen and next to Oishi, "I wanted to be by the window."

"To bad nyah!" Eiji laughed happily. "I got here first! Though you could always ask Buchou to move."

The second year pulled a face, "Are you kidding? No way! I don't feel like running laps up and down the plane."

"Momo," Oishi frowned, "don't be ridiculous."

"I'm not being ridiculous! I'm serious!"

"Mada mada dane."

"What? I can be serious! Seriously."

"There is a thirty eight percent chance of that happening."

Momo jumped, head snapping around to stare at a pair of practically opaque glasses, "Wah! Why am I sitting behind the data fiend!"

Echizen snorted, "Just live with it."

"I got a better idea. Wanna switch seats?"

"No."

"Please?

"No."

"Aw, but Echizen—"

"I said _no_. And I'm not going to change my mind, so don't bother asking."

The second year wasn't about to give up so easily, but he was interrupted as the speakers came to life and a female voice came drifting over the intercom. It gave the usual speech welcoming the passengers and explaining the safety procedures. Then the plane was rolling onto the runway and all attention was diverted to the interesting feeling of being pressed back into the cushioned seats as the plane lifted smoothly into the air.

Eiji sat with his face practically plastered against the window, eyes wide in wonder as the ground below dropped away faster than he had thought possible. In a bare few minutes all he could see out of the window were tiny, multicolored dots and lines all lying sprawled beneath a veil of thin, swirling clouds. It was absolutely amazing!

Filled to bursting with excitement, he bounced up and down in his chair, grinning madly. Sitting next to him, Oishi smiled, amused by his friend's antics. It was endearing how easily Eiji got excited over even simple things like an airplane ride.

Letting his gaze wander over the rest of their team, Oishi felt his smile growing wider. To his right Momo had extracted a game boy from his bag and was now furiously hammering away at the buttons, muttering to himself. The bits of what he was saying that actually made it to the vice captain's ears sounded something along the lines of 'Die!', 'Ha!', 'Take that!', and 'Nooo!', so he assumed that the younger boy was having fun.

Speaking of fun, he had to suppress a laugh when looking into the row in front of his own. All three of its occupants were reading. Starting from the left there was Tezuka with a _very_ thick novel in hand—presumably prepared to last as much of the ride as possible. Next there was Fuji who was browsing through a National Geographics magazine with at least three to four others piled up in his lap. And last of all there was Inui and his—surprise, surprise—green notebook. He was mumbling to himself as his pen raced across the page, probably calculating something or other. Between the three of them they must have had at least a thousand pages of paper!

And, of course, Echizen had long since fallen asleep in his seat across the aisle. And he had apparently infected Kaidoh with his constant lethargy as well seeing as the 'Seigaku snake' was also drowsing.

Come to think of it…a nap didn't sound like such a bad idea…he had stayed up…all last night…packing………

x-X-x

"We're landing! We're landing! We're landing! We're landing!"

The excited shouting rang out through the airplane, waking the masses of weary passengers with rude, unrelenting hands. The Seigaku tennis team, being the closest to its source, were yanked out of their various states of peaceful contentment like fish from the river on the ends of fishermen's hooks.

Momo yelped and his game boy went clattering across the ground, skidding haphazardly under Ryoma's chair. It hit said freshman on the ankle and startled to emit loud and boisterous music. Said freshman practically leapt out of his seat with a disgruntled cry of 'Momo-sempai!'. One of the hands he was waving around in his anger accidentally thwacked Kaidoh over the head, and…well…that was the end of peace in that quarter.

"Look! Look!" Eiji continued to shout excitedly, completely oblivious to the commotion he had caused. Reaching over to snag Oishi by the sleeve, he yanked his doubles partner—who had been attempting to calm their younger teammates—over to the window as well. Oishi let out a startled yelp as his seatbelt reminded him of its existence by digging sharply into his stomach, but there wasn't much he could do about it with Eiji still pulling on him.

"Isn't it amazing?" the redhead asked happily, awestruck eyes glued on the scene beyond the window. "Ne Oishi? Fujiko! Can you see it? Can you see it?"

Squirming around in his seat, Fuji peered over the back of his chair but it was impossible to really see anything with Eiji's head in the way. So he settled back down and leaned over Tezuka instead, placing one hand against the cool plastic window and peering down through the thinning layers of cloud.

There, spread out beneath them like some great tapestry, was England.

It was breathtaking.

Tezuka frowned, leaning back in his seat, "Fuji, I am trying to read."

"Saa, you've been reading since we got on board," the tensai pointed out, keeping his eyes glued to the expanse of green and blue below like someone hypnotized. "I want to see this."

Behind the honey haired youth, the Seigaku data player had pulled out a bottle of something labeled as 'water' on the outside but which all of them were one hundred percent sure was no such thing. Leaning over to brandish his bottle in the faces of the younger players with a wide grin on his face, he requested that they either sit down and get their seatbelts on or have a drink of his new creation. Seeing as the words 'creation' and 'my' coming out of Inui along with the word 'drink' was never a good sign, the three actually sat down and shut up. No one wanted to be the first to test their theories of what it was that was _really_ inhabiting the data player's bottle.

By the time the plane had successfully landed there were quite a few teenagers who were _extremely_ eager to get off.

"Hey, you guys," Momo said suddenly as he and his teammates stood in the arrivals' hall, their tennis bags slung over their shoulders and their various suitcases sitting around their feet, "does anyone actually know what we're supposed to do now?"

"Ryuzaki-sensei said that our hosts will send someone to direct us," Tezuka replied, scanning the surroundings for…well…he wasn't sure exactly what it was he was looking for…

"But how are we supposed to recognize whoever it is?" Oishi blinked, voicing the question now floating around in all their minds.

"Maybe they'll have a flag nyah," Eiji suggested, "you know, like with tours!"

"I don't see anyone with a flag," Ryoma pointed out, adjusting his bag on his shoulder and looking bored.

"According to my data—"

"Hello!"

Everyone—excluding Fuji and Tezuka—jumped at the sudden exclamation. A split second later they found themselves staring at a man dressed in a bright orange formal jacket accompanied by jeans and a red and blue striped tie. Now, it was quite a shock to be suddenly faced with a total stranger who seemed to have the impression that he knew you, but it was actually the clothes that really made them stare. Seriously…did everyone in London dress this…strangely? But no, most of the people moving around them looked relatively normal.

Or maybe it was because they were mostly coming off of the plane too?

"I am Nick Tanglewood, ministry representative for the department of sports. Sorry if I started you. You are the team from Seishun Gakuen, correct?" the man asked in heavily accented Japanese. Receiving a chorus of nods, he smiled and bid them follow him before turning and heading out of the airport.

Still feeling distinctly strange and somewhat uncertain, the team trailed after the oddly dressed Mr. Tanglewood. The man led them to an emerald green car—'a' meaning single—and opened the door, gesturing cheerfully for them to get on. Wondering whether or not the man realized that a single car would most likely not fit them all, the team traded raised eyebrows before filing into the car. Yet, strangely enough, first four, then five, then six, and eventually all eight of them had boarded—all in the back row of the car. But no one felt any more squashed htan they would have had they been riding in a normal car with only two other people.

Hopping into the front seat, Nick Tanglewood traded some cheerful pleasantries with the driver and they were off.

"Okaay," Momo muttered under his breath as he looked up and down the row of Seigaku regulars, "it could just be me, but this is really, _really_ strange."

"I actually have to agree, fshuu…"

"Most unusual indeed," Inui muttered, scribbling rapidly in his notebook. "The dimensions of the car! It is not logical…"

"Nyah, so? Whatever it is, it's cool!"

Their guide had them get off outside of a somewhat dingy looking _tavern_ of all places, and beckoned them in as though it was perfectly normal. The name they glimpsed before the smoky darkness of the tavern engulfed them was the 'Leaky Cauldron'—not exactly the most inviting of names but…well…their guide seemed confident enough that they had found the right place.

But if they had thought the tavern's name was weird, the people inside…were by all means several times weirder. There were people dressed in thick, heavy cloaks, and hulking figures who nursed tankards of green liquid that turned many of the Seigaku team's faces a similar color as they were all reminded of a certain data collector's concoctions, many of which had had colors of just such an abnormal shade.

The bartender spotted them and bustled over with a broad, almost toothless grin as he shook hands with Mr. Tanglewood.

"So, they're here already I see!" he exclaimed in English.

"That they are," their guide replied in kind. "And what of Mr. Bagman?"

"He—"

"Ey! Tom! More ale 'ere!"

"Pah, can't you see we're talkin'?" the bartender shouted back, but he pulled a long stick out of his sleeve and waved it in the direction of the calling customer. Then, before the astonished eyes of all eight Seigaku regulars, a tankard of ale lifted itself off of the counter, zoomed to where the customer was seated with its contents sloshing, and tipped itself over. A stream of liquid poured itself into the cup, then the tankard flew itself back to its original spot and settled back down.

No one else in the room so much as blinked twice.

Dazed and gaping, the team could only continue to cast stunned stares back at the tankard as their guide quided them to one of the tavern's inner, private rooms. Once inside and finally out of view of the flying tankard, the team found themselves faced with several unfamiliar faces. One of them, addressed as Mr. Bagman by their guide, hurried forward and held his hand out to Tezuka, seeing as the tall youth looked undeniably like the leader of the group.

"Hello, hello! So you're the ones here for the National NGW competition right?"

"Ah, that would be us."

The man beamed, "That's great! Then I'll take it upon myself to welcome you to the British wizarding community!"

There was a sudden silence.

"WHAT!"

**tBC**

**A.N**. Well, I originally told myself I wouldn't start another series until I finished my other ones, but first there was one, then there was two, and now there are three. Still, I'm going to try to work on them all equally. Anyways, I hope you guys liked this!


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer**: I don't own POT or PH 

(…) will now be used for Japanese

"…" for English

Chapter 2

(He did _not_ just say what I think he just said,) Momo gaped, rounding on Echizen, who just so happened to be standing conveniently nearby. (Yo, Echizen, you came from America! What did he say?)

The younger boy rolled his eyes in exasperation, (Why do you have ears if you aren't going to listen to them?)

Momo pulled a face, (That's not the point! You know I never score that highly in my English tests! So, what did he say?)

(Yeah Ochibi!) Eiji bustled over to join them, looking equal parts excited and confused. (Let's hear it!)

Sighing, Ryoma tugged at his hat before answering in a monotone voice, (He said 'welcome to the British wizarding community'.)

(What a weird name, nyah! Is it some obscure word for tennis in Englsih?)

(No, Kikumaru-sempai, wizards are fictional people who use magic and wear pointy hats. So 'wizarding community' should mean a group of people who use magic.)

(Hoi! Do you think that that means these people can use magic? That's cool, nyah!)

Ryoma shrugged, (I think they're deluded. Maybe Ryuzaku-sensei made a mistake.)

(Hey, but what about that tankard that was flying?) Momo said suddenly, face lighting up. (Maybe it really _was_ magic!)

(There is no such thing as magic, Momo-sempai.)

(Aw, come on Echizen, wouldn't it be cool?)

Rolling his eyes, Ryoma reached up and pulled his hat brim down lower, partly out of habit and partly so that he wouldn't have to answer the stupid question. Really, _magic_, pah. It was ridiculous!

Back on the other side of the room the proclaimed 'wizards' and 'witches' had huddled together and were talking rapidly, casting the occasional glance over their shoulders at the Seigaku team.

X

"Are you sure you got the right people, Tanglewood?"

"I'm…pretty sure…the names are all right and everything!"

"But then why were they so surprised? If I didn't know better I'd say you just brought a bunch of muggles into our midst!"

A concerned murmur rippled around their small circle as slowly widening eyes met shocked faces.

"You don't suppose…"

"…It…seems possible…"

"They're _muggles_?"

"Hush! They'll hear you!"

"Oh, sorry…but muggles! What are we supposed to do with them?"

"Couldn't we just send them back? A little memory charm should do the trick."

"But that's not possible! We don't have time to search for a replacement team and you know that the rules go that once an invitation has been accepted it cannot be retracted!"

"But _muggles_!"

"Oh quit it already Marla, we get it!"

"She has a point though… What are we supposed to do with a bunch of muggle kids?"

"Well…ah…hmm……… You know, we could always be wrong."

"They don't believe in magic! I can hear them!"

"And neither do a lot of the children who first come to our schools. So…what if we just let them stay here until it's time to send them to Hogwarts. By then we should have had ample time to observe them. And if they do actually have some magic in them then being surrounded by so many witches and wizards should draw it out."

"I think that might actually work… I mean, they didn't have any trouble seeing the Leaky Cauldron when I brought them here after all."

"Good, so it's settled?"

"But what if they ARE muggles!"

"All right, let it be then."

"But—"

X

Tezuka's eyes narrowed slightly as he watched the tight huddle across the room disperse. He didn't like the way they kept looking at him and his teammates—especially the way the woman in the maroon…robes?…kept staring at them like they were strange creatures from outer space who had suddenly landed in front of her when she was expecting a familiar friend.

(Saa, I guess they're done talking about us,) Fuji noted cheerfully—too cheerfully really for a situation that was starting to smell distinctly on the sour side.

(Hn…)

(Judging from the intonation of the murmurs audible from their discussion there is an 87 percent chance that they have decided they don't really want us here,) Inui informed them all without looking up from where he was scribbling madly away in his notebook, (a 43 percent chance that they would rather they could remove us, and a 91 percent chance that they have come to the conclusion that that cannot be done—or so it seems from their current expressions. )

(But why wouldn't they want us here?) Oishi asked curiously, shifting uncomfortably from one foot to the other. He didn't like the feeling that his company was unwelcome—it made him feel obliged to leave… (I mean…they did invite us to a tournament after all.)

(Maa,) Fuji chuckled, (maybe they don't want us to win?)

(Fshuu…) Kaidoh hissed from where he was leaning against the wall by the door, (it doesn't matter. A tournament's a tournament.)

Inui paused a moment in his writing to adjust his glasses, (Indeed. I think what's important right now is that we have not been removed from the roster. There is a 98 percent chance that things will proceed as planned.)

"All right," the one who had been introduced as Bagman smiled broadly at them, "we already have rooms reserved for you. Tom, the innkeeper, has kindly put aside two of the larger rooms. So, if you would, Mr. Tanglewood will show you upstairs. You can stay here until further notice. Is that all right?"

"That will be fine, thank you," Tezuka replied politely, though he still felt as though these…people…were hiding something from them.

"Good!" clapping his hands together jovially, Bagman beamed.

x-X-x

(I'm sleeping here nyah!) Eiji exclaimed loudly the moment the room door was open. Bounding through the open door like something on a giant spring, he cartwheeled through the middle of the room and landed squarely on the bed closest to the window amidst a cacophony of squeaking bedsprings.

(Careful,) Fuji laughed, heading for the opposite bed, (you don't want to break it.)

(Nyah!) the redhead made a face at him, crossing his arms in mock indignation. (Are you calling me fat?)

Oishi shook his head, smiling to himself as he rolled his suitcase into the room and stood it at the end of the bed next to Eiji's. Everything Inui had said earlier about their invitation being a mistake had unsettled him, but it all felt so…in place, somehow, with the team and the prospects of meeting new opponents with new skills and challenges. How could anything go wrong?

A sudden shout from the next room over shattered the serene atmosphere a split second later—almost as though it was just to prove him wrong.

(Wah! Mamushi! What are you doing here!)

(Fshuu, baka, what do you think?)

(I'm not staying in the same room as the mamushi! I want to switch rooms! Come on Echizen, let's go ask Oishi-sempai if we can change places with someone from the other room.)

_Thump_! _Thud_!

(Mada mada dane, Momo-sempai.)

(Ii data…the floorboards pop upwards by the door without warning. A mistake in the building structure perhaps?)

Tezuka sighed, adjusting his glasses absently as he claimed the bed closest to the door—not that he had much choice in the matter. Still, it was good to have an escape route near at hand… Sometimes he had to wonder if he was starting to get a little paranoid, but with his assorted teammates he felt that he would be perfectly justified in doing so.

(We should stick a video camera in the corner of their room nyah!) Eiji grinned wickedly, his dark blue eyes twinkling as he bounced up and down on the bed, eliciting more squeaks and creaks as well as a slightly disconcerting groan.

(It's bound to be interesting,) Fuji mused, tapping his chin thoughtfully as he gazed out of the window. There wasn't much to see beyond the transparent panes aside from a small, walled courtyard containing nothing but a trashcan, but he was hardly paying attention to that. Ah the possibilities of such a trip…and all the things to be found…

Oishi cleared his throat nervously, (Ah, um…maybe we should call the others and go find dinner? I mean, it is getting kind of late…)

x-X-x

A pale, golden light crept slowly up through the London sky as the round disk of the sun peaked over the horizon. Beneath its soft, feather-light glow the city began to wake as the scent of fresh bread browning in bakery ovens seeped into the streets to trail tantalizingly through the air. But to the seven youths now sleeping soundly in their rooms it was nothing but a faraway dawn that would normally have had nothing at all to do with them.

Slipping quietly into his jacket, Tezuka tugged it neatly into place before looking up at the round face of the clock on the wall beside the mirror. There was a brief moment when he thought he saw…a face of all things looking back at him, but it was gone a moment later and he put it out of his mind as a trick of the light. It was around six forty five, according to the clock at least.

Casting a last look around the room at his slumbering teammates, he turned and padded to the door. Slipping outside, he made his way downstairs and towards the sound of softly clanking dishes and running water.

Stepping off of the stairs and into the as yet empty common room, he approached the counter with a polite greeting. He was prepared to wait a few minutes for the man to finish up what he was doing, but instead he was somewhat taken aback as the bartender jumped violently at the sound of his voice and spun around as though he were afraid that Tezuka might attack him. Behind him there was a loud clatter of cups and plates as though a large pile of them had just been dropped into the sink—though as far as the Seigaku captain could tell the man hadn't been holding any. Not to mention that his hands were dry…

"Ah, yes, um, g—good morning," Tom stammered, smiling a strained version of his less-than-toothy smile, "did you sleep well? How may I help you?"

"Yes, and I have a request," Tezuka replied, deciding to ignore the innkeeper's strange behavior for the time being. After all, he couldn't say he wasn't used to even stranger.

"Ah, and that would be?"

"If it is possible, may we use your courtyard for some practice? I noticed that it is relatively empty so we will not be disturbing anything, and I do not wish my team to get out of shape while we are here."

"Practice?" the man repeated dubiously. "In…the courtyard?"

Tezuka nodded, "I was unable to locate any courts nearby yesterday."

"Well, I…" the man paused, looking inexplicably uncomfortable as he glanced from one side to the other and back again before returning his attention to Tezuka, "I…suppose that would be all right. But I'm going to have to ask you to stop before noon…when the…ah…customers really start coming in…if that's all right?"

"Of course," Tezuka replied, bowing slightly, "thank you."

X

Momo blinked once, twice, then again as he started in confusion up at the racket being held above his face. He couldn't have heard that right…he could barely keep his eyes open!

Rolling his eyes, Ryoma dropped the racket. He was getting tired of holding it up anyway. The spiky haired second year yelped as said racket landed squarely on his face and shot bolt upright in bed.

(Echizen! Watch where you're putting things!)

(Fshuuu, keep it down!) Kaidoh hissed from the other side of the room, shooting his loud teammate a harsh glare as he tied his green and white bandana around his head. (Some people like peace in the morning!)

(Then _you_ be quiet! Baka mamushi!)

(Babbling fool!)

(Worthless viper!)

They were interrupted by the sound of a throat being cleared and a very large cup of neon orange and electric green liquid that appeared suddenly between them at exactly eye level so as to achieve the most effect. It was one of those threatening sights that no one could ever possibly ignore.

(Practice is about to start,) Inui said calmly as he adjusted his thick, square glasses with his other hand. (Would you like to be late?)

Both second years gulped visibly. There was no doubt in either of their minds of what the consequences might be—nor was there any doubt that the grinning fiend before them wouldn't mind it one bit.

Momo made a dive for his fallen racket, snatched it up faster than he had ever done before, and sprinted out of the room. Hissing, Kaidoh was only a step behind him.

(Hmm,) Inui mused, lowering his concoction and reaching for his notebook, (I must say the effect is quite stunning.)

Ryoma snorted, picking up his own red rimmed racket. But he too kept a wary eye on the obscenely vivid drink.

X

(Nyah!) Eiji yowled in complaint as he yanked his blankets up over his head. (It's too early to go practice!)

Oishi sighed and tugged helplessly on the white lump that was his doubles partner, (It's already seven, Eiji, we're in Europe remember?)

(So what nyeah?) the redhead's muffled voice drifted out of the lump as it shook a little in protest.

(We should adjust to the time difference,) Oishi explained patiently, (and Tezuka just announced that we're going to have to practice in the courtyard—and we can only be there until noon. So the faster we get down there the more time we'll have.)

(To make ourselves more tired?)

(Ah…well…)

(You know,) Fuji commented suddenly from where he was standing near the door, having just heard what sounded like a stampede going down the stairs, (I do believe that Inui has a new juice. He just told Momo and Kaidoh he would give it to whoever was late.)

A split second later the tensai was nearly bowled over as a blur of red flew out from under Eiji's blankets with a loud squawk and banged through the room door, towing a startled Oishi in its wake. Chuckling softly, the brunette glanced over at the mirror—and halted in mid step. Blue eyes opening, he stared at the painting reflected in the mirror's glassy surface. It was a beautiful painting of a glimmering, white unicorn, its main and tail flowing in an unfelt wind as he gazed into a starry night sky. The painting was a very good one, but other than that there was really nothing all that remarkable about it, yet…

Turning his head to the side he regarded the painting hanging on the wall opposite the mirror—a painting of a red and gold forest in the middle of autumn.

_Saa…that can't be right…_

Glancing back into the mirror, he blinked. The unicorn was gone and only red and gold leaves looked back at him cheerfully as though laughing at some joke being whispered among the trees.

Shaking his head, he exited the room. He must have been seeing things…though for some reason that explanation didn't exactly sound right…

X

(All right,) Inui announced as he stood in the courtyard near one end of the line formed by his fellow regulars, (now that we have finished warming up, do you all see the colored circles?)

(Kind of hard not to nyah) Eiji pointed out. The brick wall behind the single trashcan that occupied the courtyard had been covered with a dozen differently colored paper circles, each stuck to the front of a different brick.

(Good,) the data fiend pushed his glasses up a little and picked up his racket and a tennis ball from the pile by his feet. (When I serve the ball, I will call a name and a color. The person I call must hit the color dictated to him with the ball. If you miss, my offer from his morning has not yet been accepted.)

Alarmed looks passed among the regulars at his last words and Momo, Kaidoh, and Ryoma turned green, recalling the most…unusual shades of color introduced to them that morning. The question as to why Ryuzaki-sensei had given Inui full permission to do whatever he so desired if he felt it would be to their benefit crossed more than one of their minds, but it was just one of those facts that they had long since accepted as unchangeable and best not to question.

(All right then,) Inui tossed the ball into the air and swung his racket up smoothly, (Kikumaru, blue!)

Hearing his name, Eiji leaped forward and the practice session began.

X

Pausing by the open doorway leading out into the back courtyard, Tom took a moment to stare at the strange activities being held. It was a most unusual game of some kind—or at least he assumed it was a game—which seemed to involve hitting small, furry balls with paddle-shaped objects that had nets stretched across them. A muggle sport, perhaps?

Blinking, he watched as the ball—after making contact with the paddle being wielded by the boy in the head-cloth-thing—flew out onto to curve back and strike one of the colored spots that had been placed on his wall. Who ever said muggles couldn't do strange things?

Shaking his head in bemusement, the old bartender turned back to his work.

X

(Fuji, orange! Oishi, orange! Echizen, orange! And one more time, Momoshiro, orange!)

(Orange, orange, orange, sheesh,) Momo complained as he leaped for the ball and smashed it with his racket, casting a disgruntled eye in the direction of the waiting pitcher behind Inui, (are you trying to imply something?)

The ball streaked towards the wall to slam straight into the center of the orange circle—and it disappeared a second later with the sudden sound of ripping paper, leaving a circular hole in the solid brick wall.

(Wah, Momo!) Eiji gasped in round-eyed shock. (You put a hole in the wall!)

But even as the redhead spoke, the said hole grew larger and larger—literally grew, smooth and seamless without the hint of a crack—until it took on the distinct shape of an arched doorway. And beyond that same door shaped portal lay a long, cobbled street lined with shops and flooded with people dressed in what looked like robes of all things—none of whom paid the new hole in the wall the slightest bit of attention.

Back in the courtyard the Seigaku regulars stood in a state of stunned silence.

**TBC**

**Notes**:

Takashi: He will very probably be brought back in later, but for the first half of the story I needed an even number, so yeah, hope you guys don't mind!

**A.N**. Next up, Diagon Alley and all its little wondrous mysteries, hehe. Anyways, I was originally going to include it in this chapter, but it didn't come out that way. So, hope you guys enjoyed it!


	3. Chapter 3

**A.N**. Okay, I know this fic is taking forever for me to write, but I am determined to finish it! Anyways, I just got a spurt of inspiration for it so finished this chapter. Hope you guys like it!

**Disclaimer**: HP and POT not mine

Chapter 3

(Momo,) Eiji started finally, breaking the silence, (what have you been eating nyah?)

But the violet eyed boy wasn't listening as he gaped at the archway, looking like his jaw had come permanently unhinged from his skull, (Somebody pinch me. This has _got_ to be a dream!)

Shrugging, Ryoma leaned over and did as requested, receiving a startled yelp of pain then a string of curses for his efforts. Granted, even he couldn't quite seem to grasp what had just happened… If it weren't for the fact that all of his teammates were obviously just as amazed by the sight as he felt he might have thought that he was seeing things—hallucinations caused by spending too much time in the company of the somewhat more than slightly insane people whom he called friends.

"Well, hurry it up then kids," an unfamiliar voice chided them and all their heads turned in unison to watch as an old lady dressed in violet robes bustled purposefully past them and towards the hole in the wall as though there was nothing at all unusual about having holes in the wall. "You don't want to impede traffic now, do you? Come along."

Somewhat stunned and a little mute, they filed hesitantly after her through the archway, tennis rackets still in hand, though most of them retained enough sense to snatch their respective bags off of the courtyard ground so they could stow said rackets away. Well, those who had brought their bags at any rate.

To their astonishment the hole in the wall closed the moment Kaidoh—being the most hesitant—stepped through it, causing the hissing teenager to jump away from it like he thought it might bite him. Not that he could really be blamed, since none of them felt by now that that would have been particularly surprising. Or actually, it would have been a little, but there was this little thing about repeated surprises that tended to leave one numb to them.

Tezuka cleared his throat finally, feeling that they had spent enough time as it was gaping—a most unproductive use of a limited and irretrievable substance.

(We need to,) he paused a moment, not entirely sure how to phrase the statement since there didn't seem to be a way to say it he could think of that didn't sound ludicrous, (find a way back through the wall…)

Six pairs of wide, round eyes and one smile turned on him, and he grimaced mentally at how that had sounded, shifting his tennis bag higher up on his shoulder. Still, he could see from the majority of their faces that most of his teammates didn't really believe what had just happened either—though they all knew it had.

(Um…well…ah…) Oishi stammered, frantically swiveling his head from side to side as though there would be a neon sign somewhere to tell him what to say if only he could find it. (I…this…it's…)

Beside him Eiji couldn't stand it anymore, letting out one loud exclamation that summed it all up quite nicely.

(This is weird nyah!)

And it was as though someone had broken the dam because the rest of the team came instantly to life. Momoshiro buried his fingers in his short, spiky hair as best he could—dropping his racket—and started shouting something that sounded like "I knew those stupid drinks were going to make us lose our minds one of these days!", and next to him Echizen didn't make any comments for once, green gold eyes staring straight down the street as though glued there. Kaidoh on the other hand had his own gaze fixated on the wall, looking as though he thought the hole would reappear if he stared hard enough—it didn't seem to be working, but that was all right, he just had to try harder. It was probably Kikumaru-sempai's fault he couldn't concentrate anyway, since having the redhead bouncing around in front of the wall was highly distracting.

Even Inui had almost dropped his notebook—almost, not quite, but almost—and was now hurriedly searching for the escaping cap of his pen. He wanted to note everyone's reactions to such an…unusual revelation, but the panicking Oishi had accidentally kicked the aforementioned pen cap, thus leading to its flight down the street.

Tezuka pinched the bridge of his nose and counted to ten. The last thing he wanted to do was go haywire like the rest of his team—Oishi in particular. The poor vice captain looked about ready to faint.

(You know,) Fuji mused quietly from where he had carefully edged out of the way of the mayhem, (I believe this is a market of some kind.)

Oishi paused momentarily, looked around, and broke out in a relieved smile, (We just have to ask have to ask how to get back to our inn! Or find a way out of here—I'm sure someone can point the way. Let's go!)

(Yeah, let's,) Ryoma agreed quickly, snapping out of his daze, (if we don't I think Momo-sempai is going to lose it.)

(Fshuu,) Kaidoh rolled his eyes, turning reluctantly from his fervent wall-gazing. (The baka doesn't have anything to lose.)

It was a mark of just how distraught the spiky haired teenager was that he didn't reply.

(Hoi! Wait a moment!) Eiji exclaimed suddenly, making them all jump. (Where's Inui nyah?)

Momentary silence.

(Off taking data?) Ryoma suggested finally since no one else seemed to want to say anything.

Tezuka sighed, (Kikumaru, Echizen, Momoshiro, go look for Inui. Momoshiro, don't leave your racket lying on the ground. The rest of us will search for a way back to the inn.)

This was so not his idea of a trip for a tennis tournament.

x-X-x 

(Why did Ryuzaki-sensei allow those horrible concoctions into practice anyway! Didn't she realize it could permanently damage us? I mean, those things are obviously not good for you!)

(Momo-sempai.)

(We've been hospitalized because of the horrid things for goodness sake!)

(Momo-sempai!)

(They should ban laboratory products from practices! We aren't lab rats! I mean—)

(_Momo-sempai_!)

(I can still taste the last when whenever I'm not eating!)

Sighing in irritation, Ryoma grabbed his hysterical teammate by the sleeve after shoving the power player's discarded racket back into his hand and proceeded to drag him across the cobbled street to where Kikumaru was waiting impatiently for them. Really, this was getting just a tad ridiculous.

(Hurry up nyah!) the redhead was saying, waving his hands around in the air like a madman. (I don't want to spend the entire day looking for Inui!)

(Inui?) Momo snapped out of his personal monologue, staring around wildly. (Were!)

Ryoma rolled his eyes, (If we knew we wouldn't have to look for him now, would we?)

But—as expected—Momoshiro wasn't listening. Instead he was pointing at a store a few doors down.

(There he is!)

Eiji and Ryoma traded startled looks.

(Well…that was fast.)

(Useful nyah!)

X 

Ah bookstores…nowhere in the world could ever be truly unpleasant or undesirable if it had a bookstore. It was after all the epitome of knowledge sought and knowledge found—a place where all who visited shared at least one commonality that could be understood beyond lifestyles, beyond languages, and any other obstacle there might be.

It was enough to settle any unease one might have had upon entering a new place, and Inui was infinitely grateful that it was to the door of a bookstore that his pen cap and led him. Perhaps there was indeed such a thing as fate.

Strolling casually through the shelves upon shelves of books bearing myriads of mysterious and intriguing titles he had never heard of before, he paused suddenly as he caught sight of two particular volumes set side by side on top of one of the lower shelves. One was titled _Brewing Success_, with a clear beaker overflowing with colors on the cover, and the other had the words _Numbers Never Lie: Equations of the World_ printed neatly over a backdrop of pure black.

Fate was indeed on his side today.

He couldn't stop grinning.

X 

Eiji, Ryoma, and the now—thankfully—silent Momoshiro stood outside the bookstore's display window, peering in through the glass. They had found their wayward data collector all right, but for some reason none of them really felt like going in to call him.

(Inui looks like he's found heaven. It's kind of disturbing nyah…)

The other two nodded their agreement.

x-X-x

Markets, Tezuka decided, were all fundamentally the same no matter how strange they were upon first glance or how unlikely their locations were. They were perpetually noisy, crowded, and entirely too chaotic. All he really wanted was to find a place where he could breathe without feeling like he was breathing in people instead of air so he could settle down to the business of finding a way out. The answer to this plight—or so he thought—was the much quieter side street that he and his three companions had discovered. The only problem was that it was a bit of a shadowy place and the already anxious Oishi took an immediate disliking to it.

(There's something wrong with the air in there!) he said adamantly, tugging despondently on the strap of his tennis bag. (And it's all dark! We don't know where we are so we shouldn't put ourselves at risk!)

(Fshuu,) Kaidoh nodded his agreement, edging discreetly away from the alley mouth. He could hear the chirping of birds from the pet store just behind him. Maybe he could just go there until Buchou and Oishi-sempai decided what to do…

(It looks like it curves back towards the direction of the inn though,) Fuji was saying, peering into the shadows. (We just have to take a quick look.)

(But it could be dangerous!) Oishi protested vehemently.

(Anything can be dangerous if you put your mind to it,) the tensai pointed out, beaming cheerily at him.

Tezuka shook his head at the way his vice captain immediately paled several shades, (Why don't you keep looking here then and we will check this place. It shouldn't take very long. If this is the way out then we can proceed to finding the others. If it is not we will at least know that much more.)

Oishi glanced from one of them to the other, seemingly at a loss. Sightly dejectedly he shrugged.

(I guess that makes sense… Be careful though, we don't know this place after all. And I'll…) he blinked, glancing from one side to the other before turning around in a full circle, (…go look for Kaidoh?)

(Ah,) Tezuka nodded and turned, walking purposefully into the darkened side street, Fuji trailing after him after waving to Oishi and suggesting he try a pet store.

The moment they passed into the alley's shadows a draft of cool air wafted over them, smelling of slightly damp cobblestones and sunless corners. To either side of them yet more stores made their appearance, slightly dusty windows staring like empty eyes in flat brick faces. Yet unlike the previous street there were only a few shoppers here, and there wasn't a one to be seen who was wearing a pleasant expression, making Fuji's smile seem extremely out of place—not that he minded.

Still…there was something about the place… Maybe it was the miniature human heads arranged in size order in one large shop window, or maybe it was the set of long, curved blades hanging in another that looked distinctly…used… He wasn't squeamish by any means, but even he was starting to feel a little uneasy. It didn't help that the few passersby they encountered all paused to give them long, measuring looks, their faces grim and unwelcoming.

Their footsteps slowed gradually as they progressed further and further into the alley until finally they both stopped. To their right was a floor to ceiling display of wooden gallows and to their left was a collection of human skulls.

(Perhaps we should go back?) Fuji suggested quietly. (This doesn't seem to be the way out.)

Tezuka nodded silently, turning around—only to come face to face with a stranger with pale blond hair who was looking at them coldly.

"May I inquire as to what you are doing here?" the man asked coolly. "I do not recall seeing either of you before."

Tezuka gazed levelly at him, starting to feel irritated despite himself, "We are lost. I apologize if we are intruding but we will be on our way. Excuse us."

With that he walked past the man and back up the alley, pausing only to make sure that Fuji was still with him.

x-X-x

(A pet store…a pet store…) Oishi muttered to himself, wandering down the street at a bit of a loss. But now that he had the time to just look around he found himself rather amazed. All around them the people were scurrying through shops with the strangest names—though he wasn't entirely sure he was reading them right—looking at such strange things as broomsticks of all things.

Glancing to the left his gaze was caught by a small stationary shop—or ,more precisely, the table just inside it displaying what looked like thin black planners. The sign proclaimed that they were "Perfectly suited to every individual! Every one will be unique!" with the subscript "Organize and/or record your days".

Something clicked in Oishi's head.

This was exactly what they needed! They were after all on a trip in a foreign country, and it would do them all some good if they had something to keep them on track with—not to mention it would be wonderful to have a documentation of all the new experiences they were bound to encounter. The more he thought about it the more he liked the idea.

Walking into the shop he picked up one of the books, glancing at the beautifully illustrated black and silver dog illustrated on the cover before flipping it open and noting how everything was neatly sectioned out and arranged—planner, address book, and writing paper for notes and journals, plus a small black pen tucked into an elastic gold loop beside a small pouch for random slips of paper on the inside of the cover.

Nodding decisively he scooped up eight of the books and approached the lady at the counter, mentally reviewing his English.

"Ah, excuse ma'am," he said politely, placing the books on the counter, "but how much do these cost?"

The woman looked up from where she had been reading the newspapers and smiled, "Well, they're a new item, so altogether I'd say about…six galleons and four sickles."

He stared at her. He could have sworn English money was in pounds…maybe he remembered incorrectly?

"Um…are these," he fished out his wallet and pulled out a few bills, "the right ones?"

The woman glanced at the bills then back at him with a laugh, "You must be one of the new students, right? Well, you see, we don't use that kind of money here. You have to go down to Gringotts to exchange the currency."

"G—Gringotts?" the words were just getting stranger and stranger.

"The bank. Here," the woman stood up and came around the counter, "wait here a moment so I can tell my assistant to come up front and watch the shop. Then I'll show you to the way."

X 

Gringotts, it turned out, was the enormous white building at the end of the alley. It was rather impressive and Oishi found himself looking up at it in wonder, examining the etchings on the door in particular with a little apprehension. It wasn't until the he and the shopkeeper were almost at the doors that he noticed the squat creatures flanking said doors.

He gasped, recoiling, "W—what are—"

But the lady grabbed his arm and pulled him firmly inside, "They're goblins dear, and they do not appreciate rude behavior so try not to do that again."

"R—right…" he let out a breath and tried to concentrate on the task at hand. It was easier said than done though seeing as the moment they stepped into the long hall he discovered that all the way up and down the building the counters were being manned by 'goblins'.

He tried with all his might but he just couldn't help staring as the shopkeeper led him to one of the open counter spaces and started the process of exchanging his money for gold, silver, and bronze coins. Finally he settled for keeping his eyes on the coins themselves which were unusual enough as it was to explain a little gaping.

_Goblins_, he thought, shifting his weight nervously from foot to foot. It sounded like some kind of disease…and by the looks of it it was a pretty bad one at that… _Someone should really try and find a cure instead of making them all work here…I wonder if it's contagious…_

"There you go!" the shopkeeper smiled at him as they reemerged into the sunlit world and headed back for the stationary store. "Now, you heard the currency rates, right? Good! Then you're all set. By the way, if you haven't gotten your other supplies yet the robes can be purchased at that shop right over there, and wands are at Olivander's—you can't miss it. Though you probably already have one of your own hmm? You don't look like a first year."

"Oh, no, we—my friends and I—were invited here," Oishi explained quickly, searching through his new coins and picking out the ones that were required. "Is that all right?"

"Perfect," she pulled a bag out from under the counter and placed his purchases inside before handing it to him. "I hope your stay goes well then."

"Thank you," Oishi smiled gratefully. "Oh and, if it's not too much trouble, could you please show me where there might be a pet store?"

"Of course," the shopkeeper smiled, "there's one right next to this shop. Just go out and two doors to your right."

Oishi beamed, bowing, "Thank you!"

x-X-x

There was something…distinctly out of place about this pet store, or so Kaidoh thought when he stepped through the door, fingering the handle of his racket for reassurance. It was lined with cages filled with animals—though that in itself couldn't be more normal—it was the animals that were…well…what could one say when presented with massive orange toads, gently humming fur balls of no recognizable shape other than spherical, cats with small _things_ on their backs that looked oddly like wings, rats who looked like they were participating in their own version of the Olympics, and all sorts of other strange and disturbing things.

He hissed softly to himself, wandering over to where a massive cobra lay in lazy black coils behind a screen of tinted glass. It was—oddly enough—the most normal of the creatures available in the shop, and that in itself spoke volumes.

"Why do you keep making that sound?"

Startled, he glanced sideways and found himself face to face with small man with sharp, irate features who was giving him a distinctively disapproving look. He hissed in surprise, tempted to bring up his racket for defense, and the man's brow furrowed.

"Stop that young man," the man snapped, "or do you want people to think so of you?"

Kaidoh could only stare, thoroughly confused by now. His English wasn't perfect, but even so he had the distinct impression that what the man was saying didn't make a lot of sense.

By now the cobra had lifted its head slowly from within its glistening coils to gaze at them curiously. It tilted its head slightly to the side and hissed, bright red tongue flicking out to taste the air as its yellow eyes seemed to glow.

The man heard the hiss and turned towards the tank, eyes growing wide and round. Thinking he had better leave, Kaidoh edged around him and set out for the door in a hurry, spying what looked like Oishi-sempai coming through the door. The problem was that the irritable man noticed and reached out to grab his arm.

"You come back here and explain yourself!" he was saying—most unreasonably. Kaidoh hissed in alarm and bolted.

(Kaidoh!) Oishi was saying as he opened the door, a look of relief on his face. (So you _are_ here! I think we should—eh? Wha—)

Running past Oishi, he tugged on the vice captain's sleeve, pulling the startled teenager along with him as he completed his quick and unceremonious exit. The very confused Oishi could only trail after him, wondering what in the world this place was doing to his companions. Maybe Momo was right and it was the notorious juices and they had all lost their minds and were in fact still unconscious somewhere back in the inn…or Japan even…

x-X-x

"Back through the wall?"

Tezuka nodded, wishing the man would stop looking at them like he was about to burst out laughing and just answer the question. Yes, it was a ludicrous question, but no, he had spent a lot of time thinking and there was really no other way to phrase it.

"We wish to return to our inn but the break in the wall we came through is…no longer available," he stated calmly for what felt like the hundredth time—to the same person no less.

"Of course, of course," the man laughed, waving him away, "you mean the Leaky Cauldron of course! But I mean, how could you have forgotten how to get through so quickly? Just tap the nineteenth brick in the middle column three times with your wand! Now, if you'll excuse me, I really got to run."

Still laughing, the man turned and headed into a shop full of giant, round bellied metal pots.

"With our wands," Fuji repeated, looking rather bemused. (I guess we'd better find the others, ne? Oh look, there's Eiji, Momoshiro, and Echizen by the bookstore. I wonder where Inui is?)

The two made their way across the street to where their three fellow regulars were all staring intently at something inside the bookstore, though Tezuka wasn't entirely sure he was satisfied with the "way back" they had discovered. If anything he was feeling quite the opposite.

(Hey Eiji,) Fuji called as they neared the bookstore, (what are you three doing there? Don't you want to go inside?)

The redhead spun around quickly and clapped a hand over the tensai's mouth, (Shhh! That's the last thing we want to do! _Inui's_ inside nyah!)

Blue eyes blinked open for a moment in surprise before sliding shut again, (Eiji, isn't that just more reason to go in? We're leaving now.)

(Nani?) the redhead quarried, hand still muffling his friend's words.

Tezuka sighed and strode past the two, nodded to Momoshiro and Echizen, and entered the bookstore.

"But these are certified English pounds," Inui could be heard saying as he entered the shop. The data collector was brandishing one of said bills in a distinctly unusual mixture of confusion and frustration while his other hand held two books he had apparently developed an attachment to.

The shopkeeper on the other hand was shaking his head in exasperation, "No, you do not understand, you have to go to the bank first and get your money exchanged for the proper amount of gold. I cannot perform the exchange here, and I cannot accept your money. I'll hold on to those if you really want and you can come back when you have the proper change."

"What currency are you speaking of?" Inui insisted, putting the books down on the counter but still refusing to actually let go of them. "Why was I never informed of a new currency here?"

The shopkeeper looked about ready to just kick him out of the store, but Tezuka broke in before he could go through with the action, calling to Inui. Ten minutes and a lot of blustering and a little apologizing later he had extracted their team data specialist from the store with the shopkeeper's promise that yes the books would still be there if they came back in a few days.

x-X-x

(_Tap_ on the wall?) Ryoma couldn't help repeating, staring at Fuji like the tensai might have sprouted horns while he wasn't looking—granted, it being Fuji-Sempai, that was entirely possible. (We're supposed to _tap_ on the wall?)

(Three times,) the brunette nodded, smiling cheerfully as though what he was saying made perfect sense—which it didn't.

(I think you've lost it nyah!) Eiji exclaimed, grabbing Fuji by the shoulders and peering into his face closely as though he could see what had gone missing. But the tensai just laughed.

(We asked three different people and they all said the same thing,) he explained, (ne Tezuka?)

Six pairs of eyes turned in the captain's direction. He stood stiffly for a moment, noting with some chagrin that no, the situation hadn't gotten any less ridiculous, before he nodded shortly.

The others—Fuji excluded—traded looks, even Inui looked taken aback.

(You don't think Buchou's lost it too do you nyah?)

Oishi, who had been waiting by the wall with Kaidoh and a large plastic bag when the others had arrived, looked askance at his doubles partner, (Eiji!)

(What nyah?) the redhead blinked innocently.

(It's Buchou you're talking about, remember?) Momo elbowed him sharply. (But I must say…)

(Fshuu, don't be an idiot,) Kaidoh hissed, giving his rival a hard stare.

Momo bristled, (What? Do _you_ think it makes sense?)

Kaidoh opened his mouth—and shut it again, looking away sourly.

(It is logistically unsound,) Inui added, pushing his glasses up his nose. (But…)

Ryoma sighed and tugged on his cap, feeling distinctly bored, swinging the racket he had kept a hold of ever since they had came through the wall up over his shoulder and bouncing it a little. The idea of walking back through the wall by tapping on it three times was admittedly weird, but they _were_ in a foreign country and not getting anywhere by standing there.

Glancing from where the majority of his sempai were still discussing the improbability of the suggestion to where Fuji-sempai was smiling serenely then to where Tezuka-buchou stood with his arms crossed, he shrugged and decided that nothing would get done this way. Not that that was a surprise, seeing as it always seemed to take a very long time indeed for his sempai to do anything. He stared at the wall for a moment. It really was a very…unusual choice for a door…which brick had they said again? Nineteenth?

Counting the bricks—it took a few times because there were so many of them and it had to be the row in the very middle—he reached forward and tapped the said brick with his racket rim. For a moment nothing happened and he wondered if perhaps they were wrong after all, but then the same hole as before appeared in the middle of the brick and began to expand. In seconds there was the archway, clear as day.

The others had all stopped talking and turned around to stare.

(What do you know nyah,) Eiji blinked, (it works!)

**TBC**

**Notes**:

The brick: Since the books never mentioned what you did on the other side of the wall I took the liberty of picking the brick and such.

Year: Chances are I'm going to set this in 4th year and replace the Try Wizard tournament, but I'm not entirely sure yet. You'll know eventually anyway.

**A.N**. Well, that was a lot longer than my usual chapters… So, questions, suggestions, comments all appreciated Guesses as to which of the actual HP characters they've met so far? Not that it's hard though really.


	4. Chapter 4

**A.N**. Sorry for how late this is! It's just I've been really busy. I had most of this written though so I figured I'd just finish the chapter and put it up. At least it's probably the longest chapter of anything I have ever posted for fanfiction. Anyhow…hope you enjoy it

Disclaimer: The usual

"…" English

(…) Japanese

Chapter 4

London, or so the Seigaku tennis team had long since decided, was officially the strangest place in the world. Not only had they just waltzed through a solid brick wall into a street selling the most unusual things they had ever—or never—heard of, but when they trooped back through it no one in the Leaky Cauldron so much as batted an eye. On the one hand, that could perhaps be seen as a good thing—Tezuka in particular did not feel particularly inclined at the moment to deal with the overly easily excitable people who composed most of the human population—but on the other hand…it certainly did make one heck of a strange statement about Westerners.

Suffice to say, tennis practice would no longer be held against that particular brick wall.

"So how'd ya like the alley?" the bartender asked as they filed past him towards the stairs, grinning his somewhat toothless grin at them. "Best of its kind, I hear."

Eiji pulled a face, searching through his frantically through his mental, Japanese-English dictionary for the right words to describe the nauseating feeling he had when watching Inui drifting through the bookstore like a man through heaven. He came up with a blank. It was too terrifying for words.

"It was an interesting experience," Oishi put in quickly, wondering why the majority of his teammates had such expressions of woe on their faces. "The people were very helpful."

Nodding sagely, Tom waved them on, turning his head in the direction of the tavern door as yet more customers trickled in off of the London streets.

(I never knew England was such a weird place,) Momo muttered under his breath to Ryoma as they followed the rest of the Seigaku regulars up the rickety stairs. (Otherwise I might have thought harder about coming…)

The younger boy just rolled his eyes. He'd never seen much point in the whole 'if only but no can do' type of contemplation. After all, what could be more pointless?

(I think it would be best if we all got a little rest,) Oishi announced, glancing over the varies expressions of woe, shock, dreamy joy he shuddered, that look was _not_ meant for Inui's face, weariness, and contemplation adorning his teammates faces. (Oh, but before I forget—here,) he pulled a stack of thin, black bound books from the bag he had been carrying since his reappearance, smiling enthusiastically with sudden excitement, (I got these planners so that we could all keep track of dates and times so we don't forget things. And it includes a writing section if you want to keep a journal about our trip!)

Blinking, Eiji accepted the book his doubles partner was handing him, stared at it a moment, then squealed in delight, (Oh look! Such a cute kitty nya! And its eyes are _blue_!)

(Eh? What are you talking about, Eiji-sempai?) Momo asked, brandishing his own book as the mild look of horror brought about by the thought of being required to write a journal vanished to be replaced with confusion. (It's not a cat. It's this…weird animal with round ears and stripes! And…well…its front legs are a lot shorter than its hind legs…anyways, it's definitely not a cat.)

(No, mine is definitely a cat nyah! Fuji! What's yours?)

Glancing at the cover curiously, the tensai tapped it thoughtfully, (It seems to be a night sky with paler shades in the background where the sun is still barely visible. Then there's the silhouette of someone—it looks like whoever it is is wearing a cloak.)

(Are they all different then?) Momo concluded, scratching the back of his head. (That's neat, Oishi-sempai)

Turning to stare at them, Oishi frowned, (What? Different? But all the books I bought had pictures of dogs on them… I thought they were very well done…?)

(Maybe you should get your eyes checked, Oishi-sempai) Ryoma muttered, gazing down at a small figure silhouetted against a crimson backdrop who was flanked by leathery wings. It certainly didn't look like any dog he had ever seen before.

Shrugging, he tucked it under his arm, swung his racket over his shoulder, and walked past the others to get to his designated room. He wasn't exactly _tired_, per say, but more time to sleep was always a good thing. The time difference certainly wasn't helping the matter…

X

The problem with disturbing one's patterns of sleep of course was that sleep was a rather irritable mistress and it did not take well to being prodded. Thus it was that when one was forced to change one's resting schedule one had a tendency to be weary beyond belief, lie in bed for hours, and still be staring blankly up at the ceiling at the end of it.

Growling in frustration, he rolled over onto his side—to be presented with another smooth, unblemished, and undeniably boring surface. This was so not his day…

Sitting up finally he looked around the room. Momoshiro was sprawled over the entirety of his bed, a bit of saliva trickling from the corner of his widely snoring mouth. Caught between grimacing and laughing—maybe he should go borrow a camera from Fuji-sempai—Ryoma continued his survey. Kaidoh was presumably asleep, he couldn't really tell with his teammate's face turned away from him, and then there was Inui…crouched by the window by a small, portable electric stove where several glass beakers stood proudly under the sun's light, bubbling as though they were each trying to win a contest. Shuddering, he couldn't help but stare at the disturbing scene before slipping out from under his covers and tiptoeing to the door. Thankfully whoever it was who had last entered hadn't completely closed the door so he was able to push it open a little further and edge into the hallway undetected. Breathing a sigh of relief he glanced over at the door to the room the other half of the team occupied before heading for the stairs. Funny, that door had been open too.

x-X-x

Sitting in one of the Leaky Cauldron's many rooms, Nick Tanglewood of the Ministry of Magic's sports and entertainment department wondered how he could have gotten himself into this mess. He had been sent to the muggle air port the day before to pick up one of the foreign teams coming to participate in the National NGW—and it wasn't just any team either, it was the specially invited team who had been called due to collected news of their amazing talents—only it had turned out the team was now composed of wizards after all but muggle tennis stars… Burying his face in his hands, he groaned. It had only gotten worse from there.

It was technically against the rules to remove teams once they had accepted their invitations, but he had his fellow 'welcoming committee' had decided to give the lot a chance to show whether or not they had magical capabilities, but tension was running high and he had been assigned the task of simply erasing their memories for now while the others reported the unfortunate mistake to the Ministry and asked for a little sidestepping in regards to the rules. He had been glad at first not to be the one who had to face the fires at the Ministry, but…

Peering out between his fingers, he stared forlornly at the mirror that stood against the wall opposite him. The beautifully crafted piece looked blankly back at him, the usually overly talkative mouth kept shut by an irritated silencing charm. It didn't stop it from twisting and contorting his image this way and that as he looked though so he closed his eyes again. No one needed to see his face stretched into the shape of a seven pointed star.

He had been so close—what had happened? He was an expert at memory charms! He had worked as an Obliviator for years before deciding he would rather be a part of the more lively and less stressful sports department! And yet…

Scrunching up his face, he recalled how he had been standing outside one of the Japanese tennis team's rooms. He had cracked open one of the doors and peered inside at its occupants. The two beds closer to the door were hard to see, so he had focused his attention on the farther two. The only problem was that one of these was occupied by nothing more detailed than a sheet covered lump, which made three highly difficult targets. That left the fourth and final bed whose occupant was—much to Tanglewood's relief or despair, he couldn't tell which—sitting with his back against a pillow propped up on the headboard, reading a book.

"Well, here goes nothing," he had muttered to himself, withdrawing his wand from his pocket and aiming it carefully. "_Obliviate_."

But nothing had happened. There was a slight hissing sound and his wand had grown warm in his hands, causing him to nearly drop it, and in the room the brunette with the book continued to read, flipping the pages with leisurely flicks of the fingers while humming something under his breath. And that was it. In disbelief he had tried it several more times, but the results had been the same.

Giving up wasn't something he made a habit of, but there were some things that couldn't be helped, so he had moved on to the next room, hoping for a better chance. Looking into this room he had seen one giant mess of a bed, a small boy who was staring at the ceiling as though he might be able to drill holes into it if he just looked hard enough, one obscured back—and a very tall young man with spiked up hair who had positioned himself in front of the window with an assortment of bubbling beakers.

And in these beakers he had caught the glimpse of the reflection of his own face.

Panicking, he had fled back to this room.

Life was so unfair… Now he would have to report a failure. It might not exactly be morally right of him, but he was starting to hope the others returned with the message that even muggles couldn't just be withdrawn.

But that was preposterous.

x-X-x

Ryoma had concluded after extended contemplation that the strange alley through the brick wall was indeed a very unusual place. He had found the entrance open when he had gone downstairs and slipped back through it since he didn't feel like battling the traffic out the pub's other end for the time being. There hadn't been much of a chance to look around before when Inui was running loose in a bookstore full of bad ideas after all.

As for why he had elected it as a very unusual place… First off, it was full of weird people. Not a single one of them seemed to be wearing what could reasonably be considered day to day clothes. They looked more like they were wearing multicolored variations of his father's usual garb—and that, in his onion, was a folly and a half. But as if that wasn't already enough they completed the image with conical hats with spreading brims that added several inches to their height but seemed even more unconventional than the clothes. One would think they'd never heard of good old baseball caps. Second of all there was the merchandize, something he had taken note of on his first trip through the alley but only now got to examine more closely. He did not find this a helpful thing to do seeing as the first thing he took a close look at turned out to be tiny, black 'beetle eyes'. Reeling back from the display, dignity forgotten, he made a beeline for the safety of a shop selling cleaning tools. It must have been one extremely effective set of tools because it was drawing one of the largest crowds he had seen yet.

"Hey, don't push," a boy not much older than himself laughed as he bumped into them. "It's not as though anyone's going to run off with it now, is it?"

"I guess not," Ryoma mumbled under his breath, eyes scanning for a path of escape. He didn't see any. The crowd had already doubled in size since he'd joined it.

"You can't blame him," another youth laughed, clearing a way and pulling both Ryoma and the other boy forward so they could get a clear view of the broom in the shop window. "I mean, just look at it, isn't it just one of the best you've ever seen?"

"Uh…it's a very…" Ryoma stared at the broom for a long moment, at a loss for words, "…nice broom…?"

"You bet it is!" the boy exclaimed, slapping him heartily on the shoulder with an enormous grin. "The latest model! Isn't she a beauty? Her performance is supposed to be phenomenal!"

Ryoma just stared at him, wondering if the boy had gone out of his mind. Really, didn't he know that there were about a million things more exciting than sweeping floors? Like tennis, for example. And yet such enthusiasm…his mother must be one happy woman. Thankfully, the boy had apparently been gifted with a short attention span and Ryoma wasn't forced to find something else to say.

Turning, he took a moment to view the mass of eager faces and shoving bodies with horror before turning his attention fully to the task of escaping the hordes. It was…not fn. He had to keep one hand clamped tightly on top of his head to keep his hat from being knocked off of his head and the other hand raised protectively in front of him lest he receive a face full of passerby.

Catching a brief glimpse of the bookstore Inui had found so very delightful out of the corner of his eye, Ryoma darted towards it and dove through the front doors. Wonderful, wonderful silence greeted him and he let out a sigh of relief. Who would have thought he would ever come to appreciate a bookstore so much?

"Why do we have so many books this year?" a loud, distraught wail echoed through the peace and quiet, making him twitch. "I mean, I swear all the teachers have doubled the number or something!"

"Oh Ron," a girl's voice sighed in exasperation, "that's what happens when you get older. And they didn't double it, it's just a few more than we used to have. Not to mention reading is good for you—you'll learn a lot more this way."

"At least we don't have to use the Monster Books anymore," a third voice added in an apparent attempt to cheer up the first.

The first one paused for a moment, "Yeah. Did you know, it almost took a chunk out of my hand when I tried to pack it away!"

Blinking, Ryoma couldn't help but look up and around. Monster book? _A chunk out of his hand_? But there were only three people in the aisle beside him—a gangly redhead, a girl with bushy, brown hair, and a boy with black hair and glasses. What caught his attention though was how the latter two were dressed like normal, sane people.

"At least they didn't fire him," the one with the glasses noted, a slight frown appearing on his face. The other two adopted solemn expressions as they nodded in agreement.

Leaning against the side of the shelf at the end of their aisle, Ryoma was starting to feel like one of his Japanese teammates listening to fluent English for the first time.

"Well, I don't think Dumbledore would fire him," the girl said finally, hefting the load of books she was carrying higher up in her arms, "even if they decided not to let him teach he would always be Hogwarts' gamekeeper."

Ryoma's head shot up and he leaned farther around the shelf, "Excuse me, did you say Hogwarts?"

Three pairs of startled eyes turned to stare at him. Stepping fully into the aisle, he waited patiently for an answer. It was about time there were answers anyway.

"Yeah, we did," the one with the glasses blinked. "Are you a new student?"

Ryoma stuffed his hands in his pockets and shrugged, "No, I'm from Seigaku. We were invited for some kind of tournament."

"Seigaku?" the redhead frowned slightly in confusion. "I've never heard of that school. Is it far away?"

Ryoma's mouth turned up at the corners into a smirk, "It's in Japan."

He was rewarded with three startled faces. He let it be for a few seconds, enjoying their surprise, but it wasn't answering questions so he felt obligated to snap them out of it. Pity.

"Do you know why the people who brought us here kept saying the word 'wizard'?"

Now they were looking at him like he had grown another head. He stared expectantly back at them, impatience building.

Suddenly the girl's face lit up with understanding, "Oh, you see, 'wizard' is our word for people who use magic."

Ryoma blinked. He knew what wizards were, he just didn't know why people here kept calling themselves by the word.

"Are you wizards then?" he asked finally, deciding it best not to point out that he could speak perfect English, having grown up in the States.

"Of course," the redhead laughed. "We wouldn't be here if we weren't. Muggles don't get into Diagon Alley—not unless someone brings them anyway, and the Ministry has rules against that."

"Did you say you were invited for a tournament?" the one with the glasses asked suddenly, sounding unexpectedly curious for a member of the 'school' the regulars were supposed to be housed at.

Ryoma shrugged, tugging at his cap and glancing back out the bookstore's glass front at the darkening alley beyond, "Yeah."

"So…why did you ask about Hogwards?"

"My team and I are supposed to be staying there," stuffing his hands into his pockets, he turned away from them. "I have to go."

He could feel them watching him all the way out of the bookstore. It was a good thing he was used to having spectators.

x-X-x

"Give it a few days, they say," he muttered to himself, disgruntled. "It's easy when you don't have to be the one tracking 'em down."

There was something about eight teenage athletes that made them extraordinarily hard to keep an eye on—espeically when they had the habit of going disobligingly in their separate ways whenever the day progressed for more than a few hours. The infuriating thing was that they didn't even seem to be doing it on purpose. Still, Tanglewood was not a happy man—he had been screeched at just that morning by a woman who had found him hiding in one of the large cauldrons she was selling, not to mention that gigantic, sixteen legged spider that had taken an experimental bite at him while he stood pressed to the side of its cage. One would think it would have been better trained!

Which, of course, just all came back to the same problem. He had been observing the boys for a few days now, and so far that had not exhibited any particular signs of magical ability. On the other hand they had managed to get into Diagon Alley on several occasions, though mostly it was while others were using the gate. There was that one time that Tom the bartender had told him about—something along the lines of them hitting a fuzzy ball against the wall and the wall opening—but there was little evidence of anything more than a malfunction of the gate. How could some strange, muggle sport open the gate anyway?

Now, staring at one of their rooms' doors, he straightened his shoulders with a resigned sigh and knocked. If this went well, he wouldn't have to deal with them for the rest of his life. It was a beautiful thought.

X

Looking up from where he had been writing down a list of everything he thought he might need to purchase in the matter of emergency supplies, Oishi blinked. He could have sworn he heard someone knocking on the door, but the sound had been brief and light, more likely a careless passerby than an actual request for entry. Still, there was the possibility that it was actually a person, and in that case it would be most impolite to leave him or her standing unanswered. Looking around the room, he noted that Tezuka was reading, Fuji was engrossed in an album of moving pictures—some kind of new, English technology, and Eiji…was taking a catnap, something he had been doing consistently in rebellion against the time zones since they had arrived. Most of their teammates probably would have appreciated his systematic hour of peaceful slumber, if it weren't for the fact that he stayed up to midnight every night just as systematically.

Smiling slightly at the way his partner seemed to be mumbling something about toothpastes and fruits in his sleep, he moved his planner onto the bed beside him and stood, heading for the door. Carefully stepping over the third floorboard from the door—it creaked like a hideously rusted hinges whenever pressure was applied despite his inability to discern a problem—he turned the handle and opened it.

The door swung creakily open to reveal, much to the vice captain's surprise, Nick Tanglewood. He stared for a moment before remembering himself and straightening to give a small bow.

"Mr. Tanglewood," he smiled, speaking a little slowly in an attempt to enunciate clearly. He knew the man could speak Japanese, but there was a harassed look about his face that made Oishi feel the need to spare him the trouble. "Is there something we can do for you?"

The man hesitated a moment, looking nervously from side to side before refocusing his gaze on Oishi's curious face, "Well—ah…yes, you see…some—some information from the…the Ministry has come and…well, I need to speak to you and your teammates."

"Well," Oishi blinked, "I am sure there is no problem. If you would please wait a few minutes…?"

"Ah, of course," bobbing his head with a strained smile, the man backed hurriedly away from the door. "I…will be waiting at the meeting room we spoke in your first day here."

"All right, can you give us a few minutes?"

"Of course," bobbing up and down again, the man scurried away and disappeared into the stairwell. Oishi looked after him with a puzzled frown, shook his head, and turned back into the room.

(Ah, Tezuka,) he said, noticing the captain's inquiring gaze, (Mr. Tanglewood says some news has come from the Ministry and he wants to speak to us in a few minutes in the room we spoke in the first day. I'm not sure exactly what kind of news he's talking about though…)

Nodding, Tezuka snapped his book shut and stood, (Will you get the others?)

Looking up from his album to watch as Oishi left the room, Fuji smiled thoughtfully, (I think this is going to be a rather interesting meeting, don't you?)

Glancing at him, Tezuka frowned slightly and adjusted his glasses, (Wake Kikumaru.)

Shrugging, Fuji got of his bed and walked over to stand next to Eiji's. Pausing a moment, he tilted his head slightly as though in thought before clearing his throat and announcing in a clear and cheerful voice, (Eiji, I brought you Inui's new juice. It's the best one he's made so far. Here, I'll just—)

(No!) leaping straight out of bed, the redhead lurched instinctively away from Fuji with a panicked shriek. (Get it away from me! I don't want it!)

Foot catching on the corner of his sheets, the redhead let out an even louder yell of pain as he crashed down onto the floor. Sitting up, he looked around frantically, saw Fuji, double checked his empty hands, and glared.

(Fuji! That was mean nyah! Why'd you have to scare me like that?!)

Laughing, Fuji held up his hands to stall his friend's anger, (Calm down Eiji, we're supposed to be meeting Mr. Tanglewood downstairs right about now.)

Turning towards the door, Tezuka let out a long, involuntary sigh. Too much time with his teammates could do that to a person. Someone, he forgot who, had once asked him how he managed to deal with them all. Truth be told, he had no idea whatsoever.

The sound of madly pounding feet resounded through the wall from the other room, most likely indicating the occurrence of a similar scenario in be applied next door. Granted, seeing as Inui himself was actually present, it probably included a little less glaring and a lot more running.

Pulling open the door just in time to see Momoshiro, Kaidoh, and Echizen all tumbling down the stairs in a tangled balls of limbs, Tezuka paused momentarily before shaking his head and stepping out to where Oishi was hovering anxiously on the landing, (Let's go.)

X

Sitting in the meeting room, Nick Tanglewood listened with growing apprehension to the series of bumps, crashes, and shrieks echoing from the direction of the stairs outside. A particularly loud crash brought him shooting out of his chair, but a moment later the door crashed open to admit the short boy with the hat who was rubbing the back of his head with one hand while glaring back over his shoulder.

"Baka," he snapped as he made his way to one of the chairs near the empty hearth. He was followed shortly by the loud Momoshiro and the bandana-wearing Kaidoh, both of whom looked equally worse for wear, muttering something about demonic drinks and mad scientists.

Sinking slowly back into his chair, the wizard continued to stare as the bespectacled captain strode calmly through the door, cutting a sharp contrast to his banged up teammates. It wasn't long before the rest of the team trooped in—the last carrying a beaker of…something…

Looking away quickly, he cleared his throat, taking a moment to mentally refresh his Japanese vocabulary, (Um, well, I asked for you all to be here today because some…news has come from the Ministry concerning your team's participation in the upcoming tournament.)

Hesitating again, he looked around the room at their expectant, impatient, and unreadable faces, swallowed, and turned to focus his attention on the captain. He explained the magical world to a muggle once, and he had never wished to repeat the experience, but at least he was relatively certain this particular teen wouldn't gape at him. At least he wouldn't be in charge of erasing their memories once the whole mess was over with. He inhaled deeply.

(You see, the National NGW is, in actuality, a tournament for wizards, as in those who are magically gifted—)

(Magic?) the redhead burst out excitedly. (What—)

(Thus our invitation to you was, ah, falsely issued,) he pushed on hurriedly, ignoring the outburst and muttering all around him. (We did not know that you were actually um…te—tenny—tennis, tennis players. Thus, you see, we now have a bit of a problem. You are, as far as we can tell, not wizards, and so cannot participate in the tournament, but you have already accepted the invitation, which is binding. We searched the rules and have found that even so we cannot withdraw you from the competition. You will have to forfeit in order for us to fix the issue. Please, please do consider it,) he added, pleading now. (If you do so we can send you all back to your country and you won't have to…ah…deal with all this anymore. You would simply forfeit your first match now. Then you can be officially off the roster.)

He looked hopefully around at them, but something about the phrase "forfeit your match" had struck a chord in the Seigaku regulars and all of their faces reflected an abrupt change from curious surprise to fierce determination.

(We never give up a match!) Momoshiro declared loudly, punching his left palm with his right hand. (And we're not about to start now!)

(He's right nyah!) Eiji exclaimed, brandishing his fists and almost hitting Oishi on accident. (We're winners nyah! Not cowards!)

Tanglewood drooped, (But—)

(Mada mada dane,) Ryoma rolled his eyes, leaning back in his chair with an air of boredom. (We're not scared.)

(But—but…you're not wizards!)

(Could we perhaps learn?) Oishi suggested, though he looked rather uncertain. He had the face of someone who still thought he was dreaming.

Resisting the urge to slap his forehead, the wizard turned to Tezuka, (Are you certain you wish to proceed with this? I mean, we could still send you over to Hogwards and see if maybe they can see something, but…I mean…)

Tezuka leveled him with a calm stare, (We do not forfeit.)

Deflating, Mr. Tanglewood sighed. This had to be the first and only time in history when muggles would be required, by law, to be allowed to attend a highly magical event.

He wanted to cry. He could lose his job over this.

**TBC**

**A.N**. Questions, comments, and suggestions all welcome. I'll try to get the next part up sooner, but I can't promise because of all the little unexpected busy things that keep coming up. I will promise that I won't abandon the fic though. Hope you liked it, and Merry Christmas!


	5. Chapter 5

**A.N**. Okay! I would have had this up sooner but my computer died a few weeks ago and well, yeah…I'm sure some of you out there know what that's like. Anyhow, hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: POT and HP not mine.

Note: Sorry about the quotes, I just got them back in.

(…) Japanese

"…" English

* * *

Chapter 5

(Oishi! Save me nyah!) hurling himself at his doubles partner, Eiji ducked around him to cling to the back of his shirt in the manner of a child hiding from a monster. (He's trying to make me run myself into a wall nyah! I don't want to die yet!)

(It won't kill you,) Mr. Tanglewood threw his hands up in exasperation. The poor man was starting to look very harassed, his hair sticking up in random directions as he gesticulated in the manner of one who couldn't quite find the words to fit his mood. (It is the way to get on the platform!)

(What platform?) Momo was frowning at the wall, brows furrowed. (I see no platform.)

(The most likely conclusion is that we were given the wrong platform number,) Inui announced, notebook open in one hand and pen poised in the other. (Misprints happen. Or perhaps nine and three quarters is the time, not the platform, and ten the platform and not the time.)

Glancing at his watch, Oishi's brows furrowed in concern, (But that'd mean we missed the train. It's already nine fifty…)

Off to the side, Tanglewood clapped a hand over his forehead and groaned audibly. This had to be a nightmare.

(We can ask one of the security guards,) Fuji suggested, (find out where the platform ten, nine thirty train was headed and find another one that goes he same way.)

(All right, I'll go,) Momo volunteered, snagging a hold of Echizen's jacket and pulling him along. (Come on Echizen.)

(What? Hey,) pulling unsuccessfully to free himself, the boy glared. (I didn't volunteer, you did.)

(Yeah, but you know your English is better than mine.)

(Baka. You should pay more attention in class.)

(Who said I didn't? It's just I'm not good with all the memorizing stuff.)

Still bickering, the two disappeared into the crowds flooding through King's Cross Station. The others watched them go with bemused expressions as Kaidoh hissed and rolled his eyes. Tanglewood watched with slumped shoulders. It didn't look like they were going to be listening to him.

Somewhere in the distance, Momoshiro had found a security guard.

(Oi!) he exclaimed in excitement, waving at the man while pulling on his reluctant accomplice's sleeve. (Mister! We have a question for you! Hurry up Echizen, we're already late.)

(Shut up then,) the younger boy snapped, japing his companion hard in the stomach with his elbow and eliciting a pained yelp while his eyes watched the guard. (Can't you tell he already thinks you're crazy? The last thing we need is for you to get us arrested for acting like a moron.)

"Sorry," he said in English to the guard, making a rare attempt to be as polite as he could manage—something he wasn't exactly an expert at. "This idiot doesn't speak English. We had a little problem we were wondering whether or not you could help with."

The guarded nodded hesitantly, still eyeing Momo suspiciously but apparently relieved that someone was making sense, "Yes, of course. How may I help you?"

"Well, we and our friends seem to have missed our train—we had an appointment. So it'd be good if you could tell us where the nine forty five train from platform ten was headed."

"Nine forty five? Platform ten, you say?" the guard frowned slightly. "There was no train from platform ten at that time. The last train that left from that platform was at nine o'clock sharp."

Blinking, Ryoma glanced back over his shoulder at the platforms, considered asking the guard about a platform nine and three quarters, but decided against it. After all, it was pretty obvious such a platform didn't exist, and he didn't want to look more like a loon than Momoshiro had already managed to do.

"Thanks," he muttered instead before grabbing Momo by the arm and proceeding to haul the second year back towards their waiting friends.

(I don't get it,) Momo complained as they waited for a trio of tall men in black business suits to file by, (did he just say there was no train?)

(No train from platform ten at nine forty five,) Ryoma corrected him, tugging irritably at his cap brim. He should make a note in that planner thing Oishi gave him to buy Momo-sempai an English dictionary for Christmas—that and maybe one of those language training audiotapes. He wasn't sure how effective they were, having never tried one himself, but he knew other people used them and it was better than nothing.

(You were wrong, Inui-sempai,) he called out as they rejoined their teammates. (There was no such train. The last one that left from platform ten was at nine.)

(But that doesn't make sense,) frowning, Inui proceeded to scribble away madly in his open notebook, his brows drawn together in deep concentration. (There is no other logical explanation!)

(Maybe this is their way of getting rid of us,) Fuji mused thoughtfully, glancing around the station once more. Nick Tanglewood made an indignant noise from where he had sat himself down by the luggage, but no one heard him.

Glancing at the tensai, Kaidoh shifted uneasily. (Would they?)

(Don't be ridiculous,) Oishi said hurriedly, (I'm sure they would do no such thing!) The problem was, the expression on his face clearly expressed the fact that he was sure of no such thing.

(Aw man,) Eiji sighed despondently, (I don't wanna have to stay here nyah! I hate losing by default…)

Seeing the worry beginning to build in his teammate's faces, Tezuka cleared his throat, (We will wait another ten minutes. If this issue is not resolved by then than we will return to the inn and work on further plans there.)

(Resolved how?) Fuji prodded. (This mysterious platform is most likely not going to materialize for our benefit anytime soon ne?)

(Either a train will come in to one of these two platforms,) the captain gestured at platforms nine and ten, (to leave at ten that might be headed in the appropriate direction, or someone comes to ask why we have not yet boarded our train.)

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Tanglewood got to his feet and headed away from the teens. Maybe if he could get a call through to the ministry they could send someone a little more…adept at dealing with muggles to come straighten out the situation.

(I hate waiting,) Momo grumbled loudly, stuffing his hands into his pockets and giving his suitcase a baleful look as though it might be somehow responsible. (Why couldn't we have been invited to a tournament somewhere where the people made sense?)

(They'd make sense if you paid attention in English,) Echizen noted, scanning the surroundings for a vending machine.

(Says he who spends English class sleeping.)

(I am qualified to sleep in English, you aren't.)

(Oh forget it,) tossing his tennis bag at the foot of the barrier, Momo grabbed his suitcase and began to haul it in the same direction. There were some arguments even he knew he couldn't win. (Let's get out of the way before we get trampled.)

(Momo! You're bag's gone!)

(What?) halting in mid step, the power player looked back at his gaping teammates—not that Tezuka-buchou or Fuji-sempai ever gaped, but it was close there too. (What do you mean my bag disappeared?)

(Fshuu, just look baka,) Kaidoh snapped, stalking forward as the rest of the team crowded around.

Blinking uncertainly, Momo looked back at the barrier. There it was, looking normal as ever, and there at its base—was nothing. Only train station floor met his questioning gaze, and a sudden thrill of panic swept over him.

(My tennis bag!) he yelled, leaping forward to fall on his knees at the foot of the barrier, hands sweeping over the obviously deserted floor space. (My tennis bag! Where is it?!)

(It's not here,) Oishi frowned, sitting back on his heels after conducting a search of his own.

(We can all see that much,) Inui noted, flipping open his notebook and jotting down a few quick lines. (Chances of the bag having been stolen—forty three percent, chances of bag vaporizing—)

(Vaporizing?!) Momo choked.

(—One point two percent…I wonder…)

(I say it was stolen nyah! Someone go get a security guard!)

(There're too many people here,) Kaidoh pointed out. (If even we didn't see who took it, it hardly seems likely that the guards would have. A thief that fast would be long gone by now.)

Turning to the distraught Momoshiro, Oishi put on his best comforting smile, (You can always buy new rackets, and I'm sure the bag won't be hard to replace either. London must have some good sports stores.)

(I saw one on our way here,) Fuji offered, folding his arms loosely and leaning against the barrier.

(But those were my best rackets,) shoulders slumping dejectedly, the violet eyed youth stared forlornly down at his hands. (I can't replace them in a day…it just wouldn't be the same with new rackets.)

Ryoma snorted, (Baka, and how are you going to play with no rackets at all?)

(Exactly!) grinning brightly, Eiji glanced up. (So where's that shop you said you saw Fujiko?) pausing, he blinked—then gasped in horror. (Wah! Fujiko's gone!)

Six pairs of eyes followed the redhead's gaze to stare in varying degrees of shock and horror at the empty air where the tensai had been a moment ago. No one could dispute the fact that he was there no longer.

For a long moment no one could say anything. There just didn't seem to be a set of words that fit the occasion of ones long time teammate simply vanishing into thin air on the tail of a disappearing tennis bag. Reaching up slowly, Tezuka removed his glasses and gave them a good cleaning, never mind that it was not a matter of what was there but what wasn't. Replacing the glasses, he gave the barrier another hard look. There was still no tennis bag and no Fuji.

It was Eiji who finally broke the silence he had started with his impromptu cry, (Someone's kidnapped Fuji!)

(And Momo-sempai's tennis equipment,) Echizen added. _That's just weird…_

(Actually—)

Oishi leapt to his feet, searching frantically for his cell phone, (Quick! Call the police!)

(—if you would just—)

(Fshuuu…)

(First my bag then Fuji-sempai—what's next? This has got to be some kind of freaky nightmare!)

(—Listen!)

Silence fell as all eyes turned to Inui. He was looking equal parts flustered and annoyed. His notebook was lying open in one hand, his pen hovering uncapped over its pages of calculations. He cleared his throat.

(Now that I have your attention, I would like to bring your attention to two very important facts. One, Momoshiro's tennis bag vanished approximately six and a half minutes ago when he threw it to the foot of this barrier here. About one minute and forty five seconds ago Fuji too vanished—his last location being against this very barrier with folded arms while talking of a sports store where Momoshiro might replace his lost equipment.)

(So the wall kidnapped Fuji? That doesn't make sense nyah!)

(I wasn't finished yet,) the data player replied, adjusting his glasses with his writing hand. (Now, if you would recall, the alley behind the Leaky Cauldron at which we have now spent quite some time was entered by way of a hidden mechanism in the wall that opens a door in said wall.)

(But there's no hole in the wall here,) Momo pointed out, puzzled.

(That is a bit difficult to explain,) Inui conceded the point, albeit reluctantly. (However, the technology here does seem rather advanced, thus perhaps there is something we are missing. I personally believe it might be some kind of a hologram.)

(A what?) several voices chorused after which Momoshiro and Kaidoh traded glares and Eiji scratched his head with a sheepish grin.

(A hologram. It is a projected image of something that is not really there—an illusion.)

(Oh! So Fujiko and Momo's tennis bag are still here we just can't see them!)

(…Something like that. Anyway,) stepping up to the barrier, Inui placed his hand against one end of it then started to walk, dragging said hand along the slightly rough surface as he went. For the first few steps everything was normal, but then his hand vanished, sinking straight into the wall halfway up his forearm.

Kaidoh let out a startled hiss as Eiji jumped in surprise. Momo and Oishi's jaws dropped, and Echizen was devoutly grateful that he had not found a vending machine in time or he probably would have spat out whatever he was drinking. Even Tezuka blinked several times, staring.

Waving his hand around in the barrier, Inui smiled, (You see? What we see is not actually here. I am certain that we will find Fuji and Momoshiro's bag if we walk through this image.)

(Well…if you're sure,) Oishi said slowly, still looking more than a little doubtful despite the scene before his eyes. (Should we…go then?)

(Hey Inui-sempai,) Echizen waved his cap at the scientist and smirked, (care to prove your theory first?)

Inui paused for a moment, blinking behind his glasses though no one could see it, then looked over at the wall where his hand was still submerged up to his wrist. Swallowing discreetly, he looked back at his teammates, over at the wall, at his teammates, and took a deep breath. Closing his eyes, he stepped towards the wall, making sure to keep slightly to the side of where his hand was in hopes that the passing point was wide enough to accommodate him. He half expected to run into something hard and cold, or at least smack into something that might yield but would still feel present to some degree, instead he encountered nothing but air. By the time he opened his eyes, he was no longer standing in front of the barrier between platforms nine and ten in London's King's Cross station.

(I thought that might be your hand,) a cheerful voice quipped from somewhere off to the side. (Wasn't entirely sure though. How's Momo holding up without his bag?)

(Better now I think,) Inui replied, turning to find Fuji sitting cross-legged on the ground next to Momo's tennis bag with a water bottle in his hand like a spectator at a tennis match, (after the shock wore off. Why didn't you come back through?)

The brunette shrugged, smiling wider, (I was curious how long it would take you guys to figure it out.)

(Right…) the data collector shook his head in bemusement. (I should have expected this.)

(So where're the others?) the brunette asked after a moment of scribbling filled silence.

Looking up from his notebook, Inui glanced at the wrought iron archway that led back to the train station. (Still on the other side, I suppose. However, they should believe my hypothesis now so they should arrive in around two minutes and twenty three seconds.)

(Ah,) Fuji nodded and settled back to wait.

Exactly two minutes and twenty three second later Kaidoh and Momoshiro came through the barrier—only they didn't so much come through as fly through in a flurry of limbs and angered shouts.

(Baka!) Kaidoh was yelling at the top of his voice. (I am not a coward!)

(And who said _I_ WAS?) Momo screamed back.

Together, the two tumbled across the deserted platform, passing the watching Fuji and Inui without so much as a glance, until they were teetering on the edge of the rails, their fists bunched in the fronts of each others shirts. It was at that moment that the sound of an approaching train's whistle blasted through the air and the rails began to rattle. Freezing in place, both combatants turned their heads simultaneously to stare down the tracks. There was a moment of utter stillness in which they both stared in rapidly growing horror at the oncoming face of a huge, red steam engine, then they were scrambling away from the edge of the platform twice as fast as they had gotten there, the argument abandoned for the preservation of their lives.

Smirking slightly, Inui glanced at his watch. They were lucky that the train was apparently running late.

(That was so cool!) Eiji exclaimed as he bounded onto the platform, eyes immediately fixing on the crimson train. (Is that ours then?)

(Fuji!) Oishi let out a relieved smile. (You're all right! We were all worried about you.)

(My tennis bag!) Momo exclaimed excitedly, catching sight of the object Fuji was sitting by and diving for it. Snatching the bag off of the ground he swung the strap over his shoulder and held onto it with one hand in the manner of someone who wouldn't be letting go any time soon.

Rolling his eyes at the sight of the goofy grin now plastered on the second year's face, Echizen adjusted the strap of his own bag and looked back towards the luggage. It looked like Oishi-sempai had already brought all the luggage through the barrier.

(We need to board the train,) Tezuka announced, gesturing towards the waiting steam engine. (It's time to leave.)

X

The train, as it turned out, was conspicuously empty. Nowhere from the first compartment to the last was there any sign that another passenger was present, and yet the whistle blew to announce departure almost the instant the last of the regulars' luggage had been haulted aboard. Fuji had suggested they check to see if the conductor's room was occupied, but after some debate it was decided that most of them didn't really want to know. After all, they had seen enough in the strange department to feel that there was a distinct possibility that it might be, but knowing there was no conductor and thinking there was a possibility that there might not be one were completely different things.

(I don't get it though…) Momoshiro frowned slightly, staring around at the deserted seats of the end compartment. (I know that that Tanglewood guy said we were going early, but you'd think there'd be at least _somebody_ on the train. I mean, where is this school anyway? Out in the middle of nowhere?)

(They never did tell us where it was,) Inui agreed, sitting down on one of the chairs and opening his notebook. (Interesting…)

(You don't think they'd just send us off to some random place to get rid of us, do you?) Eiji asked suddenly, eyes widening.

(No! No, don't say that,) Oishi interjected hurriedly before anyone could start panicking. (They said themselves that their rules forbid the removal of teams from competition who have already agreed to enter. And besides, I thought we already agreed that we don't believe anyone would do such a thing.)

(I think that was just you Oishi,) Fuji chuckled, taking a seat. (Speaking of which, what do you guys think about this magic business?)

(I think it's cool nyah!) Eiji grinned, plopping into a chair by the window. (I mean, I always wanted to know what real magic was like.)

(Do you actually believe that it's magic?) Echizen inquired. He swung his tennis bag off of his shoulder and unzipped it, beginning to rummage around inside. He could have sworn he brought a drink, but where was it?

(I say it's bogus,) Kaidoh snorted, crossing his arms. Something about his voice didn't sound convinced though.

(There is a sixty three percent chance that they might have mentioned such things to encourage us to withdraw,) Inui announced. (However, considering their various reactions to our 'lack of magical ability', or so they call it, implies that the chances of it being truth are at least eighty six percent.)

(Well, there were all the floating drinks in the bar,) Fuji started counting off on his fingers, (the car that was too large inside, the opening wall, the alley full of magic shops, the shifting painting in our inn room, the changing pictures on the planners, Mr. Tanglewood's admission, and the midway platform we just boarded.)

(Sounds pretty real to me,) Eiji shrugged. (Why don't we just see what happens? I mean, it's not a bad thing, is it?)

(Nope,) Momo agreed, grinning, (just weird. But what are we going to do about the tournament then? I mean, we aren't going to give up, but either way I get the impression it's not a tennis match.)

(Do tell,) Ryoma snorted.

The compartment fell silent as each regular thought over their current situation. Sadly, it was the kind of situation that made less and less sense the more one thought about it.

Oishi looked up suddenly, (What happened to Mr. Tanglewood?)

Another silence followed before all heads turned to look out the windows. There was nothing but rolling hills and trees beyond.

(I think we forgot him nyah…)

X

Standing in the middle of King's Cross Station, Nick Tanglewood could only stare. His charges—and every last piece of their luggage—had vanished into thin air. They weren't even on the platform when he had gone through the barrier to check.

He squeezed his eyes shut.

"I need a new job."

**

* * *

****TBC**

**IMPORTANT NOTES:**

**The Tournament**: This is NOT the Triwizard Tournament! I'm sorry, if I didn't make it clear before, but I thought the name made it relatively obvious…?

**Setting**: I have decided however that this story will take place in fourth year because I don't want to deal too much with the Voldemort has returned thing.

**Pairings**: A lot of people mentioned about these, well, this is a crossover first and foremost. I like writing these—some of you probably know this—and I generally don't write them for pairs even if I have preferences as we all do when it comes to that. Thus, you are free to imagine away, but I'm not actually writing any pairs here. Hope you don't mind.

**Mistakes**: I'm sorry about mistakes, etc, it's just I tend to be a bit too busy to really edit thoroughly…

**A.N**. Okay, now that that's over with… What did you think? Comments, suggestions, questions are all welcome. Though I won't answer questions that will be answered later in the story because that just wouldn't be fun anyway, ne?


	6. Chapter 6

A.N: I was originally going to suspend this story until I finished at least one of my others, but since I had most of this chapter written already, and someone asked about it, I decided I'd finish it and put it up. It's a little short though, sorry. ^^

Disclaimer: I don't own the POT or HP characters, etc.

" . . ." = English

( . . .) = Japanese

* * *

Chapter 6

The train ride was long and mostly uneventful. There was the short span of minutes during which a plump woman pushing a desert cart opened their compartment door, making Kaidoh and Momoshiro jump three feet off their seats as Eiji let out a yelp of surprise. She blinked at them for a moment, her mouth partially open as though she had been about to say something, apparently not used to getting such a welcome. But she collected herself and beamed at them.

"Anything off the cart?" she asked when no one moved. There was a moment of silence then Fuji stood up, smiling serenely. By the time the woman left each member of the Seigaku tennis team had some kind of strange snack none of them had ever heard of before in hand.

Munching on a frog shaped chocolate, Momoshiro glanced at the card that had been wrapped up with the candy. It looked like some kind of collectable card only the picture was blank. The word "Circe" had been written on the top of the card and there was a description on the back. He squinted at the words for a while but thought better of trying to read it. It felt too much like trying to puzzle out his English homework. When he turned the card back over the picture was no longer blank. There was a woman looking back at him—really _looking_ back at him as though she could see him. He blinked. So did she. He dropped the card.

He bent to pick it up but a different had reached it first. Straightening, he found Ryoma looking quizzically at the card. Shifting in his seat, Momo waited for his friend's reaction. What he got was a raised eyebrow and a thoughtful look before the card was handed back to him.

(So . . .what do you think?) he asked finally, unable to keep the words behind his teeth any longer. he younger boy however only shrugged, making his companion frown. "Oh come on, don't tell me you're not at least a little excited! I mean—this could be _magic_ we're seeing here. Real magic!"

Ryoma looked back at him with a raised eyebrow. Personally, he wasn't sure what the big deal was. So these . . .magicians could make pictures on a collectable card move around. It wasn't really all that different from watching a TV. The only difference was how the images got around to moving. But he could see the excitement dancing in his loud friend's eyes so he muttered an agreement and went back to munching on his oddly flavored jelly beans.

Okay, so maybe he was a little curious too, but there was no point getting all bouncy about it. What he really wanted to know was if this school had a decent tennis court.

X

Professor Minerva McGonagall waited patiently as the foreigners disembarked the Hogwarts Express. She had been hearing some strange rumors regarding the lot of them, but she had never been one for rumors. On the other hand she had been told that the man the Ministry had assigned to the Japanese children had reported that they might actually be muggles, but the man wasn't entirely sure all considered they had managed to find their way into Diagon Alley. No one knew how that had happened since there had been no witnesses, but they ha defiantly been there and no one who had been asked had reported opening the door for them. It was for this reason that she had decided not to take them up to the castle with the carriages. She needed to observe all of them, not just the few that would ride in the same carriage as her. If it turned out they really were muggles then, well, she wasn't entirely sure what would happen then since the Ministry guide had also mentioned something about failing memory charms.

Stepping forward, she introduced herself and explained that their luggage would be taken up to the school for them. The trip up to the castle was filled with the Seigaku students' excited chattering. Not having learned Japanese, McGonagall could only guess what they were talking about, but their enthusiasm made the corners of her mouth twitch up into a smile. Gasps of wonder filled the air as the lake came into sight, its deep, glassy surface filled with the pale, blue reflection of the sky. The water was so still that it looked almost as though it was the real sky down there—a piece fallen from the heavens themselves. Slowing her pace, the professor watched her charges carefully as they rounded the final bend in the road and Hogwarts castle came into sight. Eyes of all colors grew wide with wonder as the entire group halted momentarily in its tracks. This time there were no immediate exclamations of awe, but she could see clearly from their expressions that these children were seeing the castle for exactly what it was. Well, that was at least half the question answered then.

"Welcome to Hogwarts."

X

"Applications?" Harry repeated, staring blankly across the Weasleys' dining table at his friends.

"The ones for the competition of course. Didn't you read your letter?" Hermione demanded impatiently.

"I just went over the list of materials," he replied a little defensively. "I thought the rest of it was the same every year."

"It's usually pretty similar, but—"

"Oh just explain already," Ron cut in, his voice slightly muffled by the pancakes currently occupying his mouth. "I wouldn't have looked at it either if Dad didn't give us the heads up."

"You shouldn't talk with your mouth full Ron."

"So are either of you going to tell me what this application's for or not?" Harry interrupted before the redhead could respond. "And what do you mean by competition?"

Ron swallowed his pancakes. "Their holding the National NGW competition at Hogwarts this year."

"And that is?"

"It's a competition that takes place every ten years," the redhead explained. "You get representative teams from each major continent—so that's North America, South America, Europe, Australia, Africa, and Asia—and two guest teams. They get set a number of different types of contests and the teams score points depending on how they do."

"From what I read it sounded kind of like those science fairs where you have to build something that can accomplish a certain task the most efficiently," Hermione added. "Only in this contest everything is done on the spur of the moment and you're judged on how you apply your magic and knowledge to the task at hand."

"And Hogwarts was chosen to supply the European team this time 'round," Ron continued, grinning. "Apparently we had the highest average scores the last few years in the OWL and NEWT exams. The letter said everyone who's a third year or older can apply. There're eight slots on the team—and I think there might have been something about being allowed one reserve. We can get application forms from our heads of Houses."

"So it's like a game?" Harry hazarded, finishing his last piece of pancake and pushing the plate away.

That earned him a snort from Ron. "It's more than that. Do you have any idea what it means to be part of the team that wins? It's like—I don't know, being recommended by the Minister of Magic or something. The winners practically never have any problem getting their dream jobs when they graduate. Being picked to participate is no small thing either."

There was a long moment of silence as all three of them thought this over. Harry had never thought much about what he was going to do when he left Hogwarts. That particular part of the future still seemed so far away. It wasn't until now that he realized how little he knew about wizarding jobs. It was a rather disconcerting thought.

"Anyway, I think we should all apply," the redhead announced. "I mean, we've been through loads of stuff together. This should be a piece of cake."

"I don't think it's going to be that easy," Hermione sighed. "And remember, we might not even be picked. There are a lot of students in Hogwarts."

"Don't be such a downer Hermione," Ron complained.

"I'm being realistic. It doesn't mean I think we shouldn't apply."

"I think it sounds kind of fun," Harry said. Any further discussion on the matter was cut short however as the entire as a sudden explosion shook the entire house followed by Mrs. Weasley's outraged cry from where she had been cleaning the living room.

"Fred! George! That had better not be you two making more of those horrible sweets!"

* * *

TBC

A.N: Someone suggested I adopt this story out. I'm not really sure if I want to do that or not so I'm still thinking about it. Happy New Year's!


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